"What king of the gods?" Zeus snorted, bristling instantly. "That's the kind of title bards toss around without thinking about the consequences. Say that in Orario and you'll get your teeth knocked in."
He jabbed a finger toward Duncan like an old man scolding a careless child, his moustache twitching as he grew more animated.
"And besides—how did it end? Freya and Loki kicked me out on my ass. I crawled off to this backwater to hide. Once we descend, we can't use divine power, and we lose that 'knowing everything' nonsense people like to imagine. My Familia's gone, I'm dodging a madwoman's obsession, and you call that the king of the gods?"
He blew up, then immediately switched gears—half coaxing, half threatening—until Duncan had no choice but to spill everything he knew.
Duncan understood how dangerous it was.
Gods in this world came in all varieties, from benevolent to monstrous, and handing over your secrets to a deity was basically handing them a knife and turning your back. But he had no leverage, no strength, no place to hide. And from what he remembered of the anime, Zeus wasn't an outright evil god.
So, with the grim mindset of someone who'd already hit rock bottom, Duncan told him everything—like pouring beans out of a bag.
He spoke of Earth, of modern life, of stories and animation, of how he'd "known" Zeus and Bell without ever meeting them. He spoke of the fire, the rescue, the black smoke, the abrupt shift into darkness and waking up in a child's body.
When he finally ran out of words, Zeus stroked his beard and let out a low whistle.
"So that's how it is… Hah. What a filthy little trick. Can't believe I never thought of doing something like that for fun."
Duncan went pale. "Th-That sounds… dangerous."
Zeus waved him off as if "dangerous" was a seasoning, not a warning.
"Um…" Duncan hesitated, then asked carefully, "Do you know why this happened to me?"
"I've got a rough idea," Zeus said, leaning back in the chair. "Most likely some god wanted to watch a spectacle and tossed you in here. Dragging a person across worlds is difficult, but it's not impossible. Gods can interfere with other worlds, in principle, but…"
He trailed off, gaze going distant for a heartbeat. Then he clicked his tongue.
"Forget it. Keep going."
"Then why me?" Duncan pressed, voice tight. "Why pick me?"
"How should I know?" Zeus shrugged. "If it was for laughs, they probably grabbed whoever was convenient. You just happened to be the unlucky one."
"Just… for entertainment?" Duncan repeated, disbelief slipping out even though he already knew what gods were like.
Zeus's expression flattened. His tone wasn't threatening—if anything, it was matter-of-fact, almost bored. But the words landed like ice.
"What do you think gods are?" he said. "Don't paste human morality on us. The biggest reason we come down here is to relieve boredom. Heaven is endless and bland. The Lower World has uncertainty—novelty. That's what we crave."
For the first time since waking up, Duncan truly felt the gulf between "god" and "human." Not power—mindset.
Duncan clenched his small hands. "Then… can I go back?"
Zeus didn't laugh. He didn't mock him. He simply answered like a judge reading a verdict.
"No idea. That depends on whether the god who threw you here intends to let you leave. I can't do it. Not anymore."
He stood, stretched his back with a crack, then circled Duncan, inspecting him again from head to toe.
"Whoever did it, their technique is clean," he muttered. "I can't tell who it was without using divinity—and I can't. If you're from the East, then it was probably an Eastern god. I don't get along with those guys."
After another long look, Zeus gave up with a grunt, as if annoyed at the lack of clues.
Then his expression sharpened.
"And here's advice you carve into your bones: don't tell gods you're an outsider, and don't let gods 'examine' you."
Duncan swallowed. "Why?"
"Because I'm not the standard," Zeus said coldly. "Not every god is as… reasonable as me. Run into an evil god and you'll become a specimen. Best case, you die horribly. Worst case, you live horribly."
He tapped his own eye.
"Even without divine power, gods have good eyes. If they look closely enough, they'll notice something. Some of the especially annoying ones can see through essence—straight into the soul."
Duncan's heart jumped. "You mean… Freya?"
"Oh, you know her." Zeus's mouth twisted. "Not just her. Gods who can read souls are rare, but not that rare. I've been in the Lower World for a thousand years. I've watched gods descend and be sent back more times than you can imagine."
He snorted.
"Strong gods like Thor, or that witch Hera—none of them are easy to deal with."
He leaned forward, voice firm now.
"If you ever see those kinds of gods, don't hesitate. Leave. The closer you are, the longer you stay, the more likely your identity leaks out. And most gods aren't friendly. One moment they're chatting; the next, they kick you across the street for fun. They're like walking explosives—pretty lights, short fuses."
Zeus's emphasis made it clear: he wasn't exaggerating.
Duncan hesitated, then asked carefully, "Do you… not get along with them?"
Zeus corrected him instantly. "It's not that I don't get along with her. It's that she doesn't get along with anyone."
He spoke as if recalling a headache that never quite went away.
"Heaven is vast, but it's still governed by a limited bunch. Over billions of years, some develop… odd tastes. Up there, it's fine. People avoid each other. Down here, in Orario, you can't. You bump into them constantly. And then the Familia relationships become a mess."
Duncan couldn't help a small mutter. "Gods really are… something else."
Zeus's ears were sharper than they had any right to be.
"That's why people say gods are all 'fun-seekers,'" he said, almost amused. "They've lived too long. Randomness becomes the only flavor left. And don't go believing those heroic epics and adventure tales."
He waved a dismissive hand.
"Those myths are just later generations polishing the truth until it shines. The original records were warped or lost. Even when something accurate survives, it's buried in a mountain of noise."
He then added—far too cheerfully:
"Once you've met real gods, no kid dares talk trash. Most of them are petty. Down here, they'll send their Familia to 'have a word' with you. Up there… that's worse."
Zeus's grin returned briefly, wicked and knowing.
"People die, you know. You don't want to spend your afterlife being 'assigned' to clean toilets for ten thousand years because you ran your mouth."
With that, he grabbed a hat from the floor and headed for the door.
At the threshold, he paused and spoke over his shoulder.
"This isn't a peaceful world. Bell brought you in, so I can't just toss you out. And you've told me plenty of interesting things."
His eyes slid to Duncan.
"So you'll stay here for now."
Duncan blinked. "Th-Thank you…"
"And don't call me 'God' or 'Zeus,'" he snapped. "I've been hiding it from Bell on purpose. Down here my name is Ben. Ben Cranel."
Duncan's mouth twitched. "That name sounds… dangerously suspicious."
"Hm? Does it?" Zeus replied without shame. "I used it once before when I disguised myself as a mortal."
His tone hardened again, stripping away any warmth.
"Listen closely, kid. Rule one: don't tell Bell about you. Rule two: don't tell Bell about me. And rule three…"
He stared Duncan down.
"Put away your so-called transmigrator arrogance. I don't care what you 'know' about this world."
He pointed to Duncan's small body.
"Right now, you're no different from the people living on this land—no, you're weaker. You don't need monsters to die here. A wild animal could tear you apart and eat you."
Zeus's voice turned dry, almost mocking.
"Some newly descended gods think they're still almighty. They pick fights with monsters and get killed. Not common, but it happens."
He snorted.
"And when they get sent back up, they spend an eternity being laughed at."
His gaze sharpened one last time.
"If even gods can die stupidly, then you—some little brat—will die even easier."
Duncan straightened instinctively and nodded hard.
"…I'll remember your advice."
Zeus paused, then gave a tiny, barely noticeable nod—approval, perhaps.
"At least you can listen."
He turned away.
"Rest. We'll talk later."
And with that, the old man—no, the god in hiding—walked out, leaving Duncan alone with the weight of a new world pressing down on his shoulders.
-------
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