Chapter 3: After Years... (rewritten)

Notice: I didn't see anything related to danmachi memoria freese, everything mentioned about it comes from the wiki, apologies if there is any contradiction.

— —

Xander observed his domain calmly.

The endless sky, the crystal-clear rivers, the towering mountains… and the trees, those trees that were once Wisp, now rooted in the land he himself had created. It was a landscape he had patiently built, filling the emptiness that once surrounded him.

He felt at peace.

There was no urgency, no pressure, no expectations. Just him and his domain, expanding little by little.

But deep down, I knew this calm wouldn't last forever.

Xander tried talking to other gods. He wanted to understand them, to get their perspective, to find some companionship in his new existence. But after several attempts, he came to one conclusion: most gods were... irritating.

It's not that they were hostile—well, some of them were—but for the most part, they simply seemed too absorbed in themselves and their domains to pay real attention to anything else.

The first god he spoke to called himself the God of Mirage, he didn't bother to remember his name.

When he tried to start a conversation, the god just laughed and answered with another question:

"How do you know you're really a god and not just a reflection of one?" 

Xander frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you're nothing more than someone else's dream, a distorted image on the surface of something bigger."

Xander sighed. "If I'm a reflection, then what am I a reflection of?"

The Mirage God shrugged and disappeared in a puff of smoke before giving a reply.

The second time he tried to talk to the Goddess of Ruins.

He thought that someone with such a melancholic domain might be more receptive. But when he approached his domain, he found only crumbling structures, fallen temples, and stone fragments floating in the air.

Suddenly, a voice echoed from the rubble.

"Everything that exists eventually turns to ruin. Your domain is no exception."

Xander looked around. "That's… a little pessimistic, don't you think?"

"It's the truth. The heroes you admire, their deeds, all turn to dust over time."

Xander crossed his arms. "Maybe, but as long as there's someone who remembers them, they're still alive in some form." Silence.

When he wanted to answer her, the Goddess of Ruins was no longer there.

The third time he tried to talk to the God of Chains.

This one, at least, looked at him. A tall being, wrapped in chains that moved on their own, as if they had a life of their own.

Xander tried to be direct. "I'm trying to understand my domain and the role I have here. I thought maybe you could help me."

The God of Chains bowed his head. "Everything has a limit. Everything is tied to something. The gods, the mortals… even you."

Xander felt a chill. "Tied to what?"

The god smiled, but did not respond.

In the end, Xander returned to his domain frustrated.

The gods were strange. Some were arrogant, some spoke in riddles, some simply had no interest in him. If he hoped to find answers or companionship among them, he would have to look elsewhere.

There was a time when Xander tried to fit in in a different way.

A god, whose domain seemed to be related to celebration and opulence, organized a grand party on Olympus. It was not uncommon for gods to hold such gatherings, but this time, Xander decided to attend. Perhaps, in a more relaxed environment, he could better understand how his peers functioned.

The place was a sight to behold. A huge palace, floating above the clouds, with endless tables laden with food and drink of the highest quality. Music played, and the gods danced, laughed and conversed as if the world had no worries.

Xander tried to blend in. He tried to strike up a conversation with a god of war, but he only spoke of conquest and conflict, boasting of his "triumphs" on worlds Xander didn't know about.

He tried to talk to a goddess of fate, but every time he asked something, she responded with vague and ambiguous phrases.

He tried to talk to a god of wisdom, but the god looked him up and down and said condescendingly, "You're new, aren't you? When you understand the nature of your existence, perhaps we can talk."

And so he went, back and forth, trying to find someone he could actually talk to.

Finally, tired, he ended up in a remote corner of the party, with a drink in his hand, observing the hubbub from a distance. He was not the only one.

Beside him, a red-haired woman with a eyepatch drank calmly from her mug. Xander recognized the goddess of the forge, Hephaestus.

"Aren't you enjoying the party?" Xander asked, trying to start a conversation. Hephaestus snorted. "This isn't a party, it's a parade of egos."

Xander smiled a little. "I thought I was the only one who noticed."

"You're not the only one."

Another voice chimed in, and Xander turned to see a short, round-faced young woman with a warm aura. Hestia.

"I came because I was invited, but honestly, it's not my scene," the little goddess admitted, crossing her arms. "I prefer a nice meal at home with friends, not this show of gods trying to impress each other."

Xander felt relieved. For the first time all night, he found gods he could actually talk to.

Xander spent the rest of the party in that small group, talking about her experiences, listening to Hephaestus' stories about his creations, and sharing thoughts with Hestia about the nature of gods and mortals.

The party ended abruptly when Loki, the goddess of mischief and trickery, decided it was the perfect time to get up to her tricks.

It all happened in an instant. A loud crash rippled through the palace as one of the main tables tipped over, sending food and goblets flying through the air. A group of gods cried out in surprise as a massive statue of the host exploded into a cloud of golden confetti and heavenly wine.

"HAHAHAHA! Oh come on! Did you expect me to stay still all night?"

Xander barely had time to react when he felt something coil around his torso. Before he could do anything, an invisible force lifted him off the ground, spun him around in the air, and somehow he ended up hanging upside down from the ceiling, trapped in what looked like divine chains.

There was a second of silence. Then a general burst of laughter broke out in the room.

"Who the hell fell for that trap? Ah, no way! Are you the new one?" Loki shouted from across the room, pointing at him with a big smirk. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! That was even better than I expected!"

Xander tried to move, but the chains tightened. "WHAT THE HELL…? GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!"

From below, Hephaestus took a sip from her mug and looked at him without the slightest hint of surprise. "Yeah… that happens when Loki gets bored."

"What do you mean, 'that happens'?! This isn't normal!"

Hestia, on the other hand, ran underneath him with her arms raised, as if she could catch him if he fell. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Xander, stay still, I'm going to try to get you loose!"

But before he could do anything, Loki jumped onto a table and shouted with a big grin, "Well, that was fun! See you later, fools!" And with a mocking laugh, she disappeared in a flash of light.

The party host, still covered in confetti and red-faced with fury, roared, "LOKI, GET BACK HERE! I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS!"

But the goddess was already far away, and the party had ended in utter chaos.

Meanwhile, Xander was still hanging upside down, wondering when his night had turned into this.

…

Xander sighed, sitting atop a hill within his domain. He watched the Wisps dance among the humanoid trees, illuminating the night with their soft glow.

Since that fateful party on Olympus, he had maintained contact with Hestia and Hephaestus, albeit superficially. Hestia had been kind, even somewhat motherly to him, but she was not one to stray too far from her domain. Whenever he visited her, he would find her by the fire in her home, enjoying the warmth and absolute tranquility. She was a homely goddess in every sense of the word.

Hephaestus, on the other hand… Well, she was a different story. She wasn't unpleasant, but she was extremely focused on her work. Every time he visited her, he was met with the incessant sound of hammer hitting metal, sparks flying in the air, and a workshop cluttered with unfinished projects. Xander would sometimes try to start a conversation, but Hephaestus barely responded between hammer blows.

"If you're going to stay there, pass me those pliers."

That was the kind of interaction they had. Not that it bothered him, but it didn't motivate him to visit her too often either.

Somehow, he felt out of place.

He wasn't like the other gods, haughty and obsessed with their domains. But she didn't quite fit in with the more reserved ones either. Hestia and Hephaestus, though kind, seemed perfectly comfortable in their solitude. Xander, on the other hand... wasn't.

He had created a world in his domain, but he felt like something was missing.

In the end, he ended up avoiding visiting either goddess too much. He didn't want to force a friendship that perhaps wasn't necessary. Hestia didn't seem to need company, and Hephaestus… well, she had her creations.

Xander dropped onto the grass, staring up at the starry sky of his domain.

Maybe what he needed wasn't the company of other gods. Maybe he needed to find something else. Something that would give him a real purpose in this divine world.

Despite his attempts to fit in with the other gods, Xander ended up isolating himself. It wasn't intentional, and he didn't even realize when it happened exactly. He just… stopped trying.

Visits to Olympus became less frequent. After each encounter with the gods, he returned to his domain with a sense of disconnection. He was not like them. He had no centuries of existence, no imposing presence, no cult history in the mortal world. Most treated him with indifference, as if he were an unimportant newcomer, while others looked at him with curiosity, but no real interest in getting to know him.

Hestia and Hephaestus were the only ones he had a more or less friendly relationship with, but over time he realized that they were goddesses who preferred the tranquility of their domains. It's not that they rejected him, but they didn't seek him out either.

So, without realizing it, he stopped looking for them too.

He spent more time in his domain, walking among the living trees and watching the Wisps dance in the air. He had created a beautiful world within his domain, a place full of life and harmony. But even in that paradise… he was alone.

I had no followers. I had no believers. I had no one to share all that I had built with.

Over time, the feeling of loneliness stopped being a passing sensation and became a constant. It was not a heart-wrenching sadness, but it was a persistent shadow in the back of his mind.

Isolation was not a conscious choice. It just happened.

Xander found solace in his only real task: managing the souls that came to his domain.

There weren't many of them. Few people in the mortal world accomplished feats great enough to make their souls shine brightly enough to reach him. Heroes, legends, figures who had changed the course of their history... but even they were few.

Still, Xander devoted himself to watching them, studying them, trying to understand their stories, their sacrifices, their 

accomplishments. He saw the way their souls ascended, some flickering with the grandeur of

their lives, others slowly fading away, waiting for their next rebirth in the cycle of reincarnation.

He didn't speak to them, for he couldn't. They were nothing more than echoes of what they once were. But that didn't stop him from silently accompanying them, guiding them on their journey, making sure their existence didn't fade away without purpose.

Over time, it became a routine. A way to distract yourself.

Because, at the end of the day, what else could I do?

The gods held no interest for him. He had no believers or followers in the mortal world. His domain was beautiful, but lonely.

So he took refuge in his duty, in the only purpose he seemed to have in this place.

Managing souls.

Waiting for the arrival of a new hero.

Years passed. Xander lost track of exactly how much time had passed.

Day after day—if time had any meaning in the Tenkai—he did the same thing. Watching the souls arrive, making sure they complete their cycle, and then waiting again. It was monotonous work, but at least it kept him busy.

In that time, his domain had become more stable, more… his own. It was no longer simply a reflection of his imagination; it had structure, an identity. The Wisps continued to spread out, populating the landscape with their unique trees, silent guardians of the domain. Sometimes, Xander stopped to watch them, wondering if they would one day be more than just manifestations of his unconscious power.

But beyond that, his existence had become calm. Predictable.

Maybe too much.

It wasn't that he minded his work, but the lack of interaction with anything more than echoes of past souls was beginning to weigh on him.

Time in the Tenkai was strange. He didn't age, he didn't feel hungry or tired, but… he could feel boredom.

Was this all there was to being a god? To simply wait and watch?

He sighed, sitting on top of one of his mountains, looking at the starry sky he had created. His mind wandered, wondering if one day his existence would change, if something unexpected would happen in his eternal life.

And then, for the first time in a long time, something different happened.

He felt a presence approaching his domain. One that was neither that of a mortal soul nor Ouranos.

A god.

Someone came to visit him.

Xander felt the presence before he saw them. It wasn't like when a soul came into his domain, nor the imposing authority of Ouranos. This time, it was something different, something more… physical.

Two figures emerged from the edge of his domain.

The first was a man of robust build, with a fur cloak over his shoulder and armor marked by countless scars. His hair was short and reddish like fire, and his gaze sharp as a sword ready for combat. There was a sense of pressure in the air with his mere presence, as if the battlefield followed him wherever he went.

Beside him, a woman walked with a natural grace. Her hair was long and dark green, falling in waves like the leaves of a willow tree. Her clothes were made of fabrics that seemed part of the world itself: braided vines, petals, and beast fur. Unlike her companion, she did not radiate violence, but a peaceful vitality… though her eyes, golden like sunlight filtered through a forest, hid a latent strength.

The man was the first to speak, his voice strong and direct.

"So you are the new god everyone is talking about."

Xander, arms crossed, watched them without saying anything.

The woman smiled softly before bowing her head in a cordial gesture.

"My name is Nyara, goddess of life and nature. And this is Kaelos, god of war."

Kaelos snorted and crossed his arms.

"For a god of heroes, you don't look like much." Xander stared back at him unfazed.

"Did you expect me to carry a sword and shout about glory on the battlefield?" Kaelos smiled slightly.

"It would have been more entertaining."

Nyara let out a soft laugh and looked at Xander curiously.

"Your domain is… peculiar. It doesn't seem like something that just appeared, but something you created with your own hands."

Xander nodded.

"There was nothing when I arrived. So I filled it up."

Nyara gave him an approving look.

"That's rare among us. Most gods simply have their domain, but you built it…"

Kaelos looked around with his arms crossed. "And it doesn't look bad. It's quiet… Too quiet."

Xander raised an eyebrow.

"Would you rather have an eternal battlefield?"

Kaelos burst out laughing.

"It would be more exciting. But no, that's not it… There's something about this place. It's not just land and trees, there's something else."

Nyara nodded, watching the Wisps floating around.

"It's life, but not like the one I know."

Xander watched them in silence. Kaelos didn't seem like someone who enjoyed philosophizing about existence, and Nyara, though peaceful, didn't look naive.

"Now that I think about it… Isn't this a little depressing?"

Xander cocked his head. "Depressing?"

Kaelos made a sweeping gesture with his arms. "Yes. There are no more gods here. There is no noise, no real movement, just… these little lights floating around."

One of the Wisp floated past him, and Kaelos eyed it warily before shaking his head. "I hear you've been here for years, but you barely interact with the other gods."

Xander narrowed his eyes. "I tried. It didn't work."

Kaelos clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "That's a cheap excuse. What did you expect? Most gods are either egotistical or stuck in their own domains. Did you think that just because you're one of us, everyone would welcome you with open arms?"

Xander didn't respond.

Kaelos continued, his voice louder. "Look at you. A god who barely speaks to others. Who retreats into a silent domain. Is this how a god of heroes is supposed to act?"

Xander felt a slight prick of annoyance in his chest. "I don't need you to tell me how it should be."

Kaelos let out a dry laugh. "Maybe not, but someone has to do it."

Nyara, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally stepped in with a calm smile. "Kaelos, don't be so harsh. Not all gods find their place easily."

Kaelos crossed his arms but said nothing.

Nyara approached Xander with a sympathetic expression. "It's true that most gods can be difficult to deal with… But that doesn't mean you should distance yourself from all of them."

Xander looked at the goddess of life in silence.

"Maybe… you just need a little more time."

Kaelos snorted. "Or a push."

Nyara gave him an amused look before turning back to Xander. "You made this place your own, and that's admirable. But if all you have are voiceless souls and spirits, can you really call it a home?"

Xander looked around his domain. The Wisp floated peacefully. The trees he had created swayed in the non-existent wind. It was his refuge… but was it really enough?

Kaelos sighed. "Look, I'm not telling you to go out and make friends with everyone. But locking yourself up here and just watching heroes isn't the same as being one."

Xander closed his eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I'll think about it."

Kaelos rolled his eyes. "That's the most I'll get out of you, huh?"

Nyara smiled softly. "It's a good start."

Xander watched his domain in silence as the figures of Kaelos and Nyara disappeared into the distance. Their words echoed in his mind.

"Maybe… you just need a little more time."

"Locking yourself in here and just watching heroes is not the same as being one."

He closed his eyes, feeling the soft, non-existent breeze sweep through his domain. Maybe Kaelos was right. 

Maybe he had been too focused on watching and not doing.

He opened his eyes.

"Okay… Let's do something about it."

Xander looked around. He'd built this place without much thought to what it would be like in the long run. There were spirits, trees that had been born from the Wisp, but… something was still missing. Something that would give meaning to his domain, make it more than just a silent refuge.

Then it occurred to him.

Altars.

Altars dedicated to those whose exploits transcended, to the heroes who left their mark on their lives and on history. Places where their spirits could rest and where their legacies were remembered.

He raised a hand and let his domain respond. In front of him, the earth rose gently, molding into a structure of polished stone. It was simple at first, but its design began to become more detailed with each thought. Inscriptions emerged on its surface, engraving names and accomplishments that had been branded into the souls of those who came to his domain.

He stepped back a little to observe his creation.

"Well… this is a start."

But one altar was not enough.

He held out both hands and let the domain transform. More altars emerged, some large and ornate, others small and humble. Each one different, but all with a common purpose: to honor heroes.

As the altars took shape, he felt something. A subtle shift in the air, as if the domain was reacting. As if the very spirits that dwelled there recognized what he was doing.

Xander crossed his arms, looking at the altars he had already created. It wasn't bad, but if he was going to do this, he had to give it some real meaning. Not all heroes were created equal. Not all were remembered in the same way.

He closed his eyes and thought of the souls he had seen pass through his domain. Those who shone with honor, those who burned with the passion of battle, and those who, though seen as villains, had changed the world in ways that were impossible to ignore.

When he opened his eyes, he already had his answer.

He raised a hand and let his domain respond to embody the features.

The Altar of Kings

The first altar rose with solemn majesty. It was made of white and gold marble, with large pillars supporting a ceiling carved with scenes of kings, emperors and leaders who had marked history. Its inscriptions spoke of justice, sacrifice and the burden of leadership. This was the altar for those heroes who had ruled with honour and wisdom, those who were remembered not only for their strength, but for their legacy.

Xander ran his fingers over the inscriptions.

"For those who carried the weight of a kingdom on their shoulders." Then came the Altar of Storms

The second altar rose with a rumble. Made of black stone and steel, it was engraved with storms, lightning, and figures in eternal combat. Its essence roared with the fury of battle, resonating with the

souls of warriors who had lived and died with a weapon in their hand. Titles and kingdoms did not matter here. Only power, passion and the glory of combat.

Xander felt the echo of countless battles at that altar.

"For those who lived by the sword… and died by it."

The Altar of Darkness

The final altar was different. It did not rise with splendor or thunder. It rose with an eerie silence, like a shadow that was always there and only now became visible. Made of obsidian, with inscriptions barely visible in the gloom, this altar was for those whose names were whispered in fear, but whose actions had changed the course of history. Tyrant kings, ruthless warriors, figures shrouded in tragedy and controversy.

Not all heroes were seen as such.

Xander ran his hand over the cold surface.

"For those who were hated… but never forgotten."

He stepped back and looked at his work. Three altars, three forms of heroism.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt like his dominion had a real purpose.

Xander watched in curiosity as the Wisps began to gather together. Their lights flickered in a different rhythm than usual, as if they were communicating with each other in a language he couldn't quite understand.

Then, as if they had made a collective decision, several separated from the group and began to shine even more brightly. One by one, they descended until they touched the ground, and in the same place where they fell, the earth began to move.

Roots slowly emerged, gracefully intertwining, forming what looked like the base of a new altar. Xander stepped back and crossed his arms, watching the structure take shape on its own.

Unlike the other altars, this one was not made of stone or metal, but of living wood and vines. Its essence was not of kings, warriors or shadows, but of something older, more rooted in the very flow of life.

Carved into its structure, natural symbols began to appear: leaves falling in the wind, rivers flowing endlessly, ancient trees with deep roots. And in the center, a wooden figure in the shape of an old man, with a serene and wise face, carved with the same naturalness with which a tree grows in the forest.

Xander gave a slight smile.

"For those who understood nature, for those who lived with it and in it. For the wise who led without the need for swords or crowns."

He reached out and placed a hand on the altar. His touch was warm, as if he were still alive.

"Altar of the Elders."

She looked at him along with the others and felt that he fit in perfectly. A hero was not only someone who fought or ruled, but also someone who understood, who taught, who protected life in a more subtle but equally significant way.

The Wisps floated around him, twinkling with satisfaction.

Xander crossed his arms as he looked at the altars. His domain was growing, slowly, but he still felt… distant. Each soul that arrived brought with it a story, a feat, but he only saw them in their last step before reincarnation.

"If I can see their souls here…" he muttered to himself, "why can't I see them when they're still alive?"

It was an idea he had never considered before. He had always managed souls after their death, but what if he could see their paths before they arrived here?

His eyes scanned his domain for an answer, until his gaze fell upon the crystal-clear waters of a nearby lake. His reflection stared back at him, but for a moment, the ripples on the surface distorted his image. A thought crossed his mind.

Xander reached out and, with a simple gesture, raised the water of the lake. It rose into the air, forming a shimmering oval, before the magic crystallized it into a liquid mirror surface.

"Let's see if this works…"

He placed his palm on the mirror and felt a connection to his domain. With a gentle push of his will, the surface changed. At first it was a whirlwind of light and shadows, but soon images began to appear.

He saw a warrior facing a monster on a battlefield, a queen making a difficult decision from her throne, a thief escaping across the rooftops of a dark city. Each of them had one thing in common: their souls shone brightly, with the same radiance as those that came to their domain after death.

Xander raised an eyebrow.

"I can switch between them…"

He moved his hand and the image changed. It was like flipping through the pages of a book or changing channels on a television. Every time he moved to another scene, he felt a connection with that soul, understanding its story in an instant.

He fell silent, taking in what he had just discovered. Now he would not only see his stories when they were finished… he could also see them while they were still being written.

…

Xander spent years looking at the world through the looking glass, watching countless lives unfold. At first, he found it fascinating: each person had their own story, their struggles, their moments of glory or misery. But over time, the excitement turned to disappointment.

Too many were falling into mediocrity. I saw wasted potential, broken promises, ideals abandoned out of comfort or fear. People who could have done great things, but they chose the easy way, letting the current of life carry them without resistance.

Sure, a select few rose above the rest. He saw warriors who defied death, leaders who guided their people through dark times, sages who dedicated their lives to uncovering the secrets of the world. And when those few died, their souls shone brightly as they came to his domain, claiming a place at his altars.

But the rest… the rest left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

"Why?" he muttered to himself as he flipped through images. "Why do so few dare to challenge their fate? Why do most prefer to live in the shadow of what they could be?"

The Wisps floated around him, illuminating his domain with their soft glow, but Xander barely paid them any attention. He was caught up in his thoughts, in the frustration of seeing people squander their opportunities over and over again.

He began to wonder if it was worth it to keep watching. Why keep watching if the outcome was the same in most cases? But at the same time, he couldn't stop. Because every now and then, among the crowd of ordinary souls, he found someone different. Someone who, against all odds, defied their fate and left a mark on the world.

Those few were the ones who kept him watching.

…

Xander spent his days mired in the same routine, observing mortals through the mirror. Disappointment had become a familiar feeling, a lingering shadow that tinged his observations with a sense of inevitability. But then, something changed.

Xander adjusted the image in the mirror, focusing better on the white-haired young man. He didn't look like anyone special. His clothes were covered in dust, his posture was relaxed to the point of looking unkempt, and at that moment, he was standing in the middle of an open field… swinging a branch at a windmill.

"Ha, vile monster! The great Argonaut, the legendary hero, will defeat you here and now!" Xander blinked.

The young man attacked the windmill with the branch as if he were facing a giant, jumping and rolling with clumsy but enthusiastic movements. In the background, a dark-haired girl looked at him with her arms crossed and an expression of resignation. "Argonaut, for the love of the gods, stop it now."

"Feena! Get away! It's too dangerous for a maiden like you!"

"I'm going to stop cleaning up your messes if you keep acting like a jerk."

"How cruel!" Argonaut dropped the branch and held his chest as if his heart had been pierced by a spear. "But it's okay… if this is a hero's burden, I will accept it with pride."

Xander couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

The young man had energy, that was for sure. But he also noticed something else: every so often, when he thought no one was looking, his expression changed. It became more serious, more analytical. He was observing his surroundings, calculating things that others were unaware of.

But then, he returned to his clown act, running back to the village while shouting that he needed to write this glorious event in his "Hero Diary." Xander stared at the mirror with his arms crossed.

This kid… Was he really just a lucky idiot?

…

The answer came in time.

Xander watched as Argonaut grew up, his life turned upside down when his city, Elcos, was attacked by monsters. Amid the chaos and destruction, he watched as he ran, fell, failed. He couldn't save anyone… except his adopted sister, Feena.

But the most curious thing was how he handled tragedy. While others fell into despair, Argonaut never lost his carefree attitude.

"Relax, Feena! Owning a house is boring anyway! We'll be wandering adventurers, just like in fairy tales!"

Xander saw the fury in Feena's eyes as she hit her brother over the head. But he also noticed the trembling in her hands, the way she clutched at his clothes, searching for some sort of stability.

Was this young man a hopeless fool… or someone who understood pain better than anyone?

Years passed, and Xander didn't stop watching.

Argonaut continued his antics, getting into trouble in every town he came to. But then he heard about Lakrios, the city where heroes were recruited.

"This is my destiny!" he shouted, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing to the horizon. "Here I go, to become the greatest hero in history!"

"Yeah, right. Like when you said you could fish with your hands and ended up falling into the river," Feena muttered.

But Argonaut was not joking this time.

Xander watched him breeze through the entrance test, but when he found out the truth about the legendary General Minos, his attitude changed. He stayed silent for longer than anyone would expect from someone like him.

Then he challenged the king.

The "clown" suddenly became a problem, a rebel. They called him a traitor, they hunted him down… but he didn't let that stop him.

Xander watched him make allies: Crozzo, the blacksmith with extraordinary talent. A Spirit that granted him power. And Ariadne, the princess who was to be sacrificed.

He saw them fight against all odds.

He watched them descend into the labyrinth to confront the Minotaur.

And he saw Argonaut, the supposed fool, stand before the beast without a shred of fear.

"I fought giants, demons, and dragons! You are nothing, shadow beast! This will be another glorious chapter in my Hero's Diary!"

But this time, his voice did not tremble.

His sword was raised.

And the Minotaur fell.

Xander rested his head on his hand, staring at his reflection in the mirror with renewed interest.

This young man was not a simple dreamer.

He was a man who understood despair and hid it behind a smile.

A man who refused to let tragedy dictate his story. A man who, even though the world called him a clown…

He chose to become a hero.

Xander didn't take his eyes off the mirror. It wasn't just curiosity that kept him staring anymore; it was a mix of admiration and fascination.

Argonaut wasn't the perfect hero. He failed, he got into trouble, he did stupid things. But he always got up, he always smiled, he always kept going.

Xander watched him travel from town to town alongside Feena, taking on whatever odd jobs they could find. He watched him take on bandits, monsters, and con artists, always with the same carefree attitude.

"Ha! Only a fool would try to steal from me, the great Argonaut! Now, face my incredible secret technique!"

Of course, most of the time he ended up running for his life.

Feena, her patience growing thinner, ended up being the one to solve his problems. But Xander realized something: every failure, every defeat, every mistake… was part of the path Argonaut had chosen.

And then came his next big test.

A new challenge, a new battle.

A lion.

Xander watched him face the beast with his sword in hand, without hesitation. The fight was brutal. Argonaut was not the best warrior, nor the strongest, but he made up for it with tenacity and sheer will.

And when all seemed lost, his thunder sword illuminated the battlefield.

The lion fell.

But Argonaut too.

When news of her death spread, Xander felt a strange emptiness in his chest.

However…

The mirror showed the truth.

Argonaut was not dead.

Xander watched as the young man woke up, alive… but with no memories.

Their story was not over.

And Xander wouldn't stop watching.

Xander continued to watch. Argonaut… no, Navis, was no longer the same impulsive young man of yesteryear.

The alliance of kingdoms sought the impossible: to reach the Dungeon and claim its secrets. A task that few would dare to attempt, and even fewer to survive. But there was Navis, walking among kings and strategists, without the clumsiness of his youth, but with the same spark in his eyes.

Xander watched as he approached Epimetheus, another of the great names in history. Convincing him was not easy. But Navis was not just a fighter; he was a poet. His words wove a vision so grand that even the great hero decided to join the cause.

And so the man who once played the hero became a key figure in one of the greatest expeditions in history.

But his legacy…

Xander watched as, over the years, Argonaut's story was transformed. What had been a struggle of determination and sacrifice became a light tale, a farce about a bumbling dreamer who believed himself to be a hero.

Just as Argonaut had wanted.

Xander couldn't help but smile.

"So even in death, you still play your role, huh?" he muttered to himself.

Navis was remembered as a poet, a thinker, a man of words rather than a sword. And his other story, that of Argonaut, faded into a fool's comedy.

But Xander knew.

He had seen the truth.

The cycle was complete. Argonaut's story in the mortal world ended, and finally, his soul arrived in Xander's domain.

Xander was expecting him. Not with ceremony or grand words, but with a simple look of recognition.

Before him, the figure of Argonaut—or Navis, or the foolish young man playing at being a hero—materialized. His white hair remained the same, his expression still held that spark of defiance, but there was something else in his eyes: understanding.

Silence stretched between them for a few moments.

"So this is where my story ends, huh?" Argonaut said, his voice light, almost carefree.

Xander crossed his arms. "That depends. Does it really end here, or is this just another one of your interpretations?"

Argonaut laughed, a genuine laugh, unburdened by expectation or farce. "You're right… stories never really end, do they?"

Xander watched him. He had seen it all, from comedy to tragedy. From mistakes to triumphs. And now, Argonaut was here. Not as a clown. Not as a hero. Just as himself.

The god extended a hand, pointing at the altars. "So, which one do you think belongs to you?"

Argonaut looked at the monuments with curiosity. The Altar of Kings, for those whose honor transcended. The Altar of Storms, for the warriors who lived for battle. The Altar of Darkness, for those whose mark on history was feared or misunderstood. And the Altar of the Ancients, for the wise and the guides.

For the first time in a long time, Argonaut looked thoughtful.

Xander stared at Argonaut in silence. For years he had watched his life, his failures, his victories, his unwavering determination disguised as foolishness. Now, as he stood before him, there was no mockery on his face, only a quiet acceptance.

"Your time here won't be long." Xander finally spoke, his expression solemn.

Argonaut blinked, cocking his head. "Is that good or bad?"

Xander didn't respond immediately. He turned and began walking slowly, gesturing for Argonaut to follow him. With his usual nonchalance, Argonaut did so without question.

They passed by the altars. The altar of Kings, where great leaders found rest. The altar of Storms, where warriors who lived for battle remained. The altar of Darkness, where the souls of those the world saw as villains found their place. The altar of the Elders, where the wise and the wise men rested in their eternity.

But Xander didn't stop at any of them.

"You know, I thought it would be scarier to die," Argonaut said with a lopsided grin. "But here I am, walking with a god who looks like he's been watching a stage tragedy for centuries without laughing." Xander ignored him and moved on.

Finally, they arrived at a large portal of light, floating in the middle of the void of the domain. It had no defined shape, changing color and texture as if it were the reflection of infinite possibilities.

Argonaut looked at her curiously. "And this?"

Xander looked him in the eyes. "The greatest honor a soul can receive."

For the first time, Argonaut looked surprised.

Xander continued. "Not all souls make it here. Most find their rest on the altars, remembered in history, in glory or infamy. But some… very few… leave a mark so deep that their journey does not end here."

He turned to Argonaut.

"You have the opportunity to be reincarnated."

The hero remained silent. Not out of fear or doubt, but because, for the first time in a long time, he had no immediate answer.

Xander watched her reaction. "Your life wasn't a tragedy, nor a glorious epic. It was what you wanted it to be. A fool's comedy… that inspired others to dream of being heroes."

Argonaut smiled slightly. "Wow… when you say it like that, it almost sounds impressive."

Xander gave him a look of mild annoyance. "It is."

Argonaut looked at the portal again, took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair.

"So? I just go in and get reborn somewhere else?"

Xander nodded. "You won't remember anything. But the essence of who you are… will remain."

The young hero let out a low laugh. "Sounds like the start of another great story."

Xander tilted his head slightly. "Maybe it is."

Argonaut looked at him one last time, with a carefree but sincere smile.

"So… I guess we'll see each other in another life."

And without further hesitation, he took a step forward.

The light from the portal enveloped him.

Xander watched him disappear, expressionless. But deep inside, he knew that one day… Argonaut's spark would rekindle in the world.

Xander stared at the portal for a few more moments, before turning and returning to his throne. The domain was calm, the Wisp floating silently, almost as if they had also witnessed the moment with respect.

As he reached the center of his abode, he turned his gaze to the large mirror floating before him. 

With a slight wave of his hand, the silver surface rippled like water, and new images began to form.

Xander exhaled, leaning back on the armrest of his throne.

"Let's see… who's next?"

The reflection slowly focused on another corner of the world, a new story about to begin.

…

Time in his domain passed unhurriedly, and Xander spent countless days observing the mortal world without finding anyone who truly captured his interest. There were many stories, many lives, but none had that special sparkle that made him stop.

Meanwhile, in the divine realm, the gods continued with their chaotic and absurd existence.

One day, Xander learned—quite accidentally—of a drama between gods that took him by surprise.

"Aphrodite and Hephaestus were dating?" Xander muttered, nearly spitting out the ambrosia he was drinking.

Hestia, who was sitting with her arms crossed in a corner, just sighed.

"Well… not anymore," she said, glancing sideways at Hephaestus, who said nothing, simply hammering harder than necessary, the metal burning with each blow of her hammer.

Xander blinked, processing the situation. From what he'd heard, Aphrodite had cheated on Hephaestus with Ares, leading to a disaster of divine proportions. And now here Hestia was, seemingly comforting her friend in the best way she could… which, apparently, consisted of being present in the same room as Hephaestus forged furiously.

It wasn't the first time she had seen Hestia and Hephaestus together. Ever since she had come to the divine realm, she had noticed that the two seemed to share a stronger bond than other gods. Hestia, despite her apparent antisociality, always found time to be with Hephaestus, and Hephaestus, in her usual silence, was more open with her than with anyone else. They didn't talk much, but they understood each other without needing to.

"And what are you doing here?" Hestia asked, looking at him suspiciously.

Xander raised his hands. "I'm just a spectator. I didn't know you two were so close."

Hestia grimaced. "We're more than just close, we're friends. Real friends, not like the bunch of hypocrites here."

Xander looked at Hephaestus, who didn't pause for a second in his forging, but from his hardened expression, it was clear he had heard every word.

"…It must hurt," he commented quietly.

Hephaestus snorted. "You don't know."

Hestia looked at her friend with concern, but didn't say anything. Instead, she simply made herself more comfortable in her chair and stayed there, accompanying her in her own silence.

Xander sighed and scratched his head. Not that he was good at this stuff, but he understood the value of company in difficult times.

"Well… at least Ares is a jerk," he said, shrugging. "I doubt this will last."

Hephaestus let out a bitter laugh. "I don't care how long it lasts."

Hestia looked at Xander disapprovingly, but then sighed and turned her attention back to her friend.

"Shit, I think I screwed up" Xander thought

He apologized but the atmosphere remained tense for a while longer, with Hephaestus banging on the metal, Hestia sitting in her usual calm, and Xander… well, nosy.

Maybe he wasn't part of their circle, but he decided to stay a little longer. Because, at the end of the day, even if the gods were annoying, dramatic and haughty… sometimes, they were just people dealing with their own problems.

Thus time passed in Xander's life. His routine was divided between his own existence in the divine realm and observing the mortal world through the mirror.

Every day, he checked on his domain, keeping some order among the souls that arrived and tending to the altars he had built. The Wisps continued to wander about, their lights flickering as if they had thoughts of their own, and sometimes they even brought back little curiosities they found in his realm.

But what really filled his hours was the mirror.

He turned it on as if it were an old habit, watching history unfold in the mortal world. Sometimes he got bored of how repetitive it all could be: senseless wars, betrayals between kings, heroes falling to their own arrogance.

Other days, he would find something of interest. Some warrior with a noble cause, an adventurer who challenged the impossible, or a simple, ordinary person who, with small acts, left a mark on others.

And from time to time, he heard about the other gods.

Loki continued to cause trouble with his chaotic personality, Hestia and Hephaestus continued to share their strange but solid friendship, and Aphrodite… well, she was always tangled up in some new story that would probably end in disaster.

Xander didn't get too involved, though sometimes he ended up getting into situations without realizing it. Not because he wanted to, but because divine drama had a way of drawing him in like a magnet.

But deep down, everything remained the same. He watched. He waited. And without realizing it, time continued to pass, dragging him along with it.

One day, while going through his usual routine of turning on the mirror and scrolling through the lives of mortals, Xander stopped at a scene that, for some reason, caught his eye.

He was a young man with black hair and a sharp, determined gaze. Although he did not yet know it, that boy was Albert Waldstein, a name that would eventually go down in history.

For now, Albert was just a young swordsman, struggling in a cruel world. Xander watched him train to exhaustion, fall and rise again and again. He had none of the arrogance of nobles, nor the clumsiness of those who dream of greatness without doing anything about it. There was something about him… a silent conviction, an unbreakable will.

For some reason, Xander didn't change the scene. He just stared.

Something told him that this young man was going to be someone important.

Xander was intrigued to see Albert Waldstein venture into the Dungeon, a place that had not yet been fully explored at the time. However, when he tried to look inside it through the mirror, he encountered an unexpected limitation: the image became distorted, blurred, or simply went completely dark.

It was frustrating. The mirror allowed him to see mortals going about their daily lives, but every time Albert descended into the Dungeon, the connection was cut off until he emerged again.

Still, there was no doubt that the young man was making progress. Every time he emerged from that abyss, his bearing was firmer, his movements more refined, and his gaze… his gaze became more and more like that of a warrior who had seen death and decided to defy it.

Xander couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on down there. What was Albert facing in the depths? What was it that was driving him forward with such determination?

And most importantly… how far would it go?

Xander watched with a hint of skepticism as Albert began to approach the ethereal entity. A Spirit. By nature, beings different from humans, ephemeral in some ways and eternal in others.

At first, he thought it was a passing infatuation, the kind of idealization that often ended in disappointment. But no. Every time Albert left the Dungeon, Xander watched him go with her. They spent time together, shared stories, trained, supported each other.

The young hero not only admired the Spirit… he respected her. And she, in turn, began to see him not just as another mortal, but as someone worthy of her company.

Over time, the inevitable happened. The affection grew, matured, and Xander witnessed the moment when, against all expectations, Albert and the Spirit—Aria—chose each other.

By the time their wedding day arrived, Xander, standing in his lonely domain, arms crossed and frowning, could only quietly admit:

"Well, I didn't see that coming."

When Xander saw the scene through the mirror, he almost dropped the glass he was holding.

Aria… was pregnant.

She blinked several times, making sure it wasn't some kind of illusion or error in the image. But no, there it was. Albert was at her side, holding her in a mixture of excitement and wonder, as the news became clear.

"That… shouldn't be possible."

Spirits couldn't have children. Not with humans. Not with anyone. It was an established truth, a boundary that had always existed. And yet, there Aria was, a new life growing inside her.

Xander sat back in his seat, rubbing his chin as he tried to find an explanation. But there wasn't one. Just one undeniable fact: they were witnessing a miracle.

Months later, in the middle of a quiet night, the cry of a newborn resonated in the image of the mirror.

Ais Waldstein was born.

Xander watched silently as disaster unfolded.

The Black Dragon had arrived.

The scene in the mirror showed a village in flames. The sky blackened by smoke. Screams, chaos, despair. Albert Waldstein was there, sword in hand, standing between the creature and its family.

Xander already knew how this would end. He'd seen too many similar stories before. And yet, he couldn't look away.

Albert had no choice. He couldn't run, he couldn't reason with the beast. He could only fight.

He launched an attack.

The duel between hero and dragon shook the very earth. Albert's sword danced with fury, slicing through the air, leaving burning wounds in the beast's flesh. But the Black Dragon was a living calamity. Its claws tore at the ground, its flaming breath reducing everything to ash.

Aria had fled with Ais in her arms, but even from a distance, tragedy was inevitable.

Xander watched in silence, not intervening, unable to do anything. Just watching as history repeated itself.

Xander was on the edge of his seat, eyes fixed on the mirror, following every movement with intensity.

"Come on, Albert! To the left! No, no, no, don't expose yourself so much!"

He stood up from his seat and paced back and forth, as if his nervousness could influence the fight. He knew he couldn't do anything, but that didn't stop him from acting like the most passionate of spectators.

When Albert managed to wound the Black Dragon in the eye, Xander let out a cry of excitement, raising his arms in victory.

"Yes! Right there! Give him another one, don't let him recover!"

But the joy was short-lived.

The dragon's roar echoed with unbridled fury. The beast whipped its head around and with a single whip of its tail, sent Albert flying into a rock. Xander stood silently, his fists clenched.

"Get up… come on, get up…" he muttered, his eyes fixed on the mirror.

Albert stood up, staggering, his sword still in hand. He was at his limit, but he was not giving up.

Xander felt his chest pound. It wasn't just nervousness over Albert's fate… It was the pure excitement of watching a legendary battle unfold before his eyes.

Xander stood still, his gaze fixed on the mirror.

Albert fell to his knees, his sword slipping from his bloody hands. His breath was ragged, his body shaking, but he tried to get up anyway. Xander saw the glint in his eyes, that same determination that had gotten him here.

But the Black Dragon roared.

In an instant, the beast lunged forward. A final blow. A roar of pure destruction.

And Albert Waldstein fell.

His body lay limp on the ground, the light in his eyes slowly fading.

Xander exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

"…Damn."

He leaned back in his seat, not taking his eyes off the mirror.

The Black Dragon rose victoriously, its dark figure disappearing into the distance.

The battle was over. Albert had lost.

And now, his soul was on its way.

Xander frowned, his hand manipulating the mirror, flicking from one reflection to the next. He searched through the echoes of the mortal world, through the fates of those who had been close to Albert. But he found nothing.

Aria Waldstein was not there.

Ais Waldstein neither.

It was as if they had completely disappeared.

"What the…?" he muttered, tapping the mirror frame with his fingers. His mirror was supposed to be able to see anything in the mortal world. It could follow the traces of the living, the fallen, even those on the verge of death. But in this case, there was absolutely nothing.

It was as if they had never existed.

Xander pushed aside his bewilderment and turned around. The presence of a new soul always brought a change to his domain, an ethereal whisper announcing its arrival.

And there he was.

Albert Waldstein.

His figure was not that of a defeated warrior, nor of a man broken by death. No, his spirit maintained the same dignity he had in life.

Albert looked around, confused. It didn't take long for him to realize what had happened. His last fight, his last breath... death had overtaken him.

But his reaction was not resignation.

"Aria… Ais…"

His voice, once firm, trembled with a mixture of worry and urgency.

Xander watched him silently. He knew this was a difficult moment. Most heroes reacted this way: not worried about their own death, but about what they had left behind.

Albert turned to him with a fierce intensity. "Where are they? Are my wife and daughter okay?"

Xander opened his mouth, but stopped.

I didn't have an answer.

The mirror, his greatest tool, had been unable to find Aria and Ais after Albert's death. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he searched every corner of the mortal world, they had simply… disappeared.

"…Don't know."

Albert stood still. His spiritual body could not reflect expressions as easily as a mortal's, but the aura surrounding him became unstable.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

Xander sighed. "My mirror can't find them. I don't know where they are."

Silence fell between them. Despair mixed with disbelief in Albert. He had faced death bravely, but he had never considered that he might not have answers after all.

"Then… then let me go back."

Xander shook his head. "You know that's not possible."

Albert clenched his fists. "I can't stay here without knowing what happened to them! Aria… Ais…! If they're still alive, if they're waiting for me, I have to…!"

Xander let him talk. It was natural.

But in the end, even the greatest of heroes must accept their fate.

And Xander, as the god guiding these heroes, had to be there when they did.

Xander waited patiently. He knew he couldn't rush the process. Albert needed time to process it, to understand that there was no turning back.

But the hero resisted.

"If there is a way, if there is something I can do—"

Xander shook his head. "There isn't."

Albert shuddered. His soul was restless, still too attached to what he had left behind. But he could not remain like this forever.

Xander sighed and walked over. "Listen, Albert. I don't know what happened to Aria and Ais… but that doesn't change what you did, or who you were. You fought with everything you had, you lived with conviction. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Albert looked down.

"But they—"

"They will move on."

Albert clenched his fists, but in the end, he let out a long sigh. "…I have no choice, do I?"

Xander smiled wistfully. "There never was."

The god raised a hand, and the surroundings changed. Around him, the fog of the domain dissipated, revealing a golden path that stretched into the unknown.

"The cycle of reincarnation awaits you. It is the greatest honor a soul can receive."

Albert looked at the road in front of him. His steps were slow, but firm.

Before crossing, he turned one last time to Xander.

"If you ever find them… tell them I'm sorry." Xander nodded.

Albert smiled slightly, as if remembering something distant, and without saying anything else, he crossed the threshold.

And with that, the hero disappeared.

Xander stood silently, staring at the spot where Albert had disappeared. Two heroes, two souls who didn't fit the altars he had built. Not because they were unworthy, but because they were greater than any mold he could force upon them.

Argonaut, the fool who inspired others with his false comedy.

Albert, the warrior who challenged the impossible and marked a story that had not yet ended.

Their legacies were too vast to be defined by a single concept. They were not just kings, nor just warriors, nor shadows that the world feared. They were something more. Something that even he could not pigeonhole.

Xander exhaled and looked at his domain.

"…Maybe I've been looking at this the wrong way."

Not every hero fit on an altar. Not every hero could be classified. Some were simply unique.

With that idea in mind, he returned to the mirror.

The world kept turning, and there were still many stories left to see.

Xander thought about it as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't want to be the hero, or interfere with his exploits, but he did want to be there... to experience those moments up close, to feel the heat of battle, the tension in the air, the thrill of watching a heroic act unfold before him.

But how could I do it?

The gods did not often descend to the mortal world without reason, and he had no followers to call him to their side. Still, the idea began to settle in his mind: to find a way to be present, to witness with his own eyes what until now he had only seen from a distance.

Xander looked at his domain, the altars, the souls passing through it… and then at the mirror.

"There must be a way…" he muttered.

…

Some time passed (Several years)

Xander blinked a couple of times in surprise before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"How did you get in?" he asked without taking his eyes off the mirror.

Loki, with her trademark smirk, shrugged as he looked at the reflected scene. "Come on, Xander, do you really think something like your dominance is going to stop me?"

Xander clicked his tongue, still feeling some resentment over what had happened at the last party on Olympus. He wasn't one to dwell on the past, but this time… Loki had really gone too far.

"I thought you'd be busy bothering someone else."

Loki laughed, leaning an elbow on her shoulder with complete shamelessness. "Bothering? Please, I was just having fun. But let's leave that alone, tell me… what is big, boring Xander doing locked away in his little corner of the world?"

Xander frowned. "I manage the souls that come here, if you don't remember."

Loki rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, of course, you are the great judge of heroes. But… what is it about that?" She pointed at the mirror. "Since when do you obsess over mortals before they die?"

Xander crossed his arms. "If I'm going to manage their souls, it makes sense to know their lives."

Loki stared at him for a second before letting out a louder laugh. "For all of us! Are you telling me you've become a spectator of mortal drama? This is pure gold!"

Xander sighed, but didn't deny anything. Loki settled down beside him, staring at the mirror curiously. "So… who's the lucky one now? Another great soul on the way?"

Xander didn't answer immediately, staring at the reflection seriously. "So far, nothing." Loki raised an eyebrow, noticing a different glint in Xander's eyes.

"Hmm… you're in the mood for something else, aren't you?"

Loki looked at Xander with a smile that indicated she had picked up on something.

"Let me guess…" she said in a sing-song voice as she turned to face him. "It's not enough for you to see everything from here, is it?"

Xander didn't respond immediately, he simply crossed his arms and stared at the mirror in silence.

Loki clicked her tongue. "Ha, I knew this would happen to you sooner or later. You got bored of being just a spectator."

Xander sighed. "It's not boredom."

Loki cocked her head. "No? Come on, Xander, be honest. After seeing those heroes, aren't you curious to be there? Not as the protagonist, of course, but just… to experience it up close."

Xander pressed his lips together, but he didn't deny it. From Argonaut to Albert, he'd seen feats that had thrilled him, feats that had left a mark on history. But he was always here, in his domain, watching it all through the mirror, unable to feel the thrill of battle, the weight of a decision, the impact of a fate-changing moment.

Loki crossed her arms and gave him a knowing look. "You know, if you had told me a century ago, I would have called you a fool. But after seeing you obsessed with that thing—" she pointed at the mirror "—I almost understand you. Well? What do you plan to do about it?"

Xander exhaled slowly. "The rules of the gods prevent us from going down."

"Aha." Loki smiled. "But we know those rules aren't eternal."

Xander looked at her with interest. Loki took a step towards him and patted him on the shoulder.

"If you really want to see such feats up close, it's just a matter of waiting." She turned to start walking to the entrance of the domain, still smiling. "And when the time comes… I want to see you there."

Xander was silent, watching Loki walk away with that carefree attitude.

Wait…

Maybe it wasn't that far off.

Loki didn't leave immediately, instead she dropped into the air as if there was an invisible chair beneath her, crossing her legs with complete confidence.

"So…" she began, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "How desperate are you to get out of here?"

Xander frowned. "It's not desperation."

"Uh-huh." Loki smirked. "Yeah, yeah. You've just been glued to that mirror for ages, watching every move those mortals make. It's not like you're dying to go, are you?"

Xander sighed. "Loki…"

She raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay, don't look at me like that." Then she tilted her head, appraising him. "You know, I never thought the great Xander, the god of heroes, would end up as a bystander in his own story."

Xander looked at her calmly, but there was something in his gaze that made her let out a low laugh.

"Tell me, what would you do if you could go down?"

Xander crossed his arms. "Nothing that violates the rules."

Loki snorted. "Please, do you really think the gods won't take the opportunity when we finally get to go?"

Xander didn't respond immediately.

Loki rested an elbow on her knee and smirked. "You know, if you think about it, you have an advantage over all of us. No other god has watched mortals the way you have. You've seen their deeds, their mistakes, their tragedies… more than anyone else."

Xander looked at the mirror, where the image of Albert Waldstein was still fresh in his memory.

"And when the time comes… what are you going to do with everything you know?"

Loki looked at him with a spark of interest in her eyes. This time, Xander didn't have an immediate answer.

Xander snapped his fingers without even looking at her.

A sudden flash of light enveloped Loki, and in the blink of an eye, the goddess was pushed back as if an invisible force was dragging her away from his side.

"Hey, hey, hey! You don't have to be so cold to me!" Loki protested, floating on his back as he tried unsuccessfully to resist.

"I'm busy, Loki," Xander replied with a sigh.

"Oh, come on! You know you like having company—!"

Before she could finish her sentence, a door of light opened behind her and, without further ceremony, sucked her in, slamming shut.

Xander exhaled deeply and turned his gaze back to the mirror. His thoughts were still revolving around Loki's words, but he had no intention of admitting it.

With no further distractions, he continued to watch.

…

Not even a day passed before Loki reappeared in his domain, as if he had never left.

Xander was sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring into his mirror with the same intensity as always, when a familiar voice broke his concentration. "Wow, what dedication. It almost seems like you really care about humanity."

His eyebrow twitched.

"Loki."

The goddess gave him a mocking smile as she leaned towards him, her chin resting on her hands. "That face of yours doesn't change. What, you didn't miss me even a little bit?" Xander sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "No."

Loki chuckled, clearly amused by him attitude. She dropped down beside him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and looked away at the mirror.

"So… what are we watching today?" She asked in a nonchalant tone, completely ignoring Xander's obvious displeasure.

He snapped his fingers, but this time, instead of being dragged out of his domain, Loki simply blinked in place, unharmed.

Xander frowned at her.

Loki smirked. "Did you really think I was going to fall for the same trap twice? Come on, give me some credit."

Xander closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Go away."

"Nah?"

He opened his eyes in exasperation.

Loki smiled even wider.

Xander wasn't going to tolerate her presence any longer. If his previous method hadn't worked, then he would try something more drastic.

Without even looking at her, he snapped his fingers once more, but this time he channeled a fraction of his dominance into the action.

Loki immediately felt a shift in the space around him. Her body became weightless, as if reality itself were denying his presence.

"Hey, hey, wait a—!"

Before he could finish his sentence, his body was sucked into a golden portal that opened at his feet.

Xander barely spared her a glance as he watched her disappear in the blink of an eye.

Finally, silence.

He let out a sigh of relief and turned his attention back to the mirror.

"…She won't be back so quickly this time."

The days passed and the routine was established as if it were an unbreakable ritual.

Every day, Loki found a new way to sneak into his domain. Sometimes she'd casually appear sitting on Xander's throne, other times she'd materialize beside him as he stared into his mirror, and more than once she'd simply appear out of nowhere with a mocking comment ready to go.

"Hey, Xander, how's the hermit life? Tired of looking at mortals like they're cheap theater?"

Xander, without even turning his head, already had the automatic response ready.

"Loki, go away."

But she never did it right away.

Sometimes she would limit herself to small talk, other times she would launch more direct provocations, trying to get him out of his composure.

"You know, I'm starting to get really fond of this place. Maybe I should claim a piece of land."

Xander just sighed, his patience hanging by a thread.

In the end, he always ended up kicking her out of his domain one way or another. But every time he did, she knew it was temporary.

The next day, Loki returned with the same energy as always, as if nothing had happened.

And so the routine continued.

Every day, Loki would show up with a sly smile and the same carefree attitude, as if her expulsion the day before had never happened. No matter how blunt Xander was in telling her to leave, she always found a way to come back.

At first, Xander tried to ignore her, hoping she would eventually get bored. It didn't work. Loki seemed to find amusement in her stoicism, mocking her patience with casual comments as he settled into his throne without permission or brazenly took her wine glass away from her.

"Are you really still looking at that mirror? I thought after a couple of centuries you would have gotten tired of it."

"It's more interesting than this conversation."

"Ha! That's because you don't give me a chance to make it entertaining."

Xander exhaled, resting his head on his hand. "I highly doubt your concept of entertainment and mine are compatible."

But Loki never took his answers as defeat. If she failed to upset him with words, she tried with actions. Once he tried to move the mirror from its place "so that it had a better angle," another time she tried to put his own spin on the altars, which almost earned her a definitive sweep of his domain.

Yet no matter how much Xander chased her away—with a stern look, a firm command, even a gentle push of his power—Loki would simply return the next day, as if nothing had happened.

Over time, Xander's irritation turned more to resignation than anger. Sure, he still found her annoying, but there was something about her persistence that made her presence feel… less intrusive.

One afternoon, as Xander was checking the mirror, he felt Loki appear once again beside him. He didn't say anything, he simply stared at the reflected image.

After a while, Xander raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to bother me today?"

Loki smiled, crossing her arms. "Nah, you look too focused. I don't want to ruin the moment."

Xander eyed her suspiciously. But for the first time in a long time, he let her stay a little longer.

Loki was being particularly quiet that day, which was a bit of a surprise. After several minutes of awkward silence, Xander decided to comment on it.

"If you were like this more often, I might throw you off my radar less."

Loki let out a mocking chuckle, not taking her eyes off the mirror.

"So that's the secret to making you miss me? I just have to keep quiet?"

Xander gave her a quick glance, then looked back at his mirror. "It's not a secret, it's common sense."

"Well, well," Loki replied in a carefree tone, rocking back on her heels. "But how boring would that be, wouldn't it?"

Xander sighed. "Not at all."

Loki smirked. "Admit it, if you really hated me coming, you would have found a way to keep me out."

Xander didn't respond immediately. In theory, he was right. If he really wanted to, he could reinforce his hold and prevent Loki from entering again, or at least make it as tedious as possible for her to enter his domain. But the fact that he hadn't meant…

He clicked his tongue, turning his attention back to the mirror. "I just don't have time to deal with it."

Loki laughed. "Whatever you say, Xander! Whatever you say."

And so the years passed. No matter how hard he tried to drive her away, Loki always returned. Day after day, her presence became something unavoidable, almost like part of the domain itself.

As much as it irritated him to admit it, Xander had come to expect her comments, her practical jokes, her insistent intrusion into his personal space. It wasn't that he enjoyed it, but… when more than a couple of days went by without her showing up, he felt a strange emptiness in his routine.

It was absurd.

But there he was, feeling like something was missing if he didn't hear, at least once a day, some irritating joke from Loki.

When Loki returned this time, Xander immediately noticed something was different. She didn't have his usual smirk on, nor did he crack a joke as soon as he appeared. Instead, he had an expression that was a mix of excitement and anticipation, as if she was about to drop the news of the century.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Xander asked, crossing his arms.

Loki then smiled, but not in her usual way. This time it was a triumphant smile. "Hey, big guy, are you tired of seeing everything through your little mirror?"

Xander frowned. "Get to the point."

"We can go down to Genkai now."

For a moment, his mind went blank. Then he processed the words and felt something inside him stir. Down? To that world he had watched for so long? To that world where Argonaut, Albert, and so many others had emerged?

His grip on her arms tightened unconsciously.

Loki looked at him with an even wider smile. "Come on, I know you want to do this."

Xander blinked, trying to process the information. "Get down? How exactly?"

Loki shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, it's not like we can just jump up and show up there. There are rules, you know. You need to be on the list."

Xander frowned. "Ready?"

"Yes, a list of gods approved to descend," Loki explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's fresh news, so everyone wants their turn. The line is… long."

Xander sighed, massaging his temple. "Let me guess, you're already on the list." Loki smiled smugly. "Obviously."

Xander looked at her suspiciously. "What did you do, Loki?"

Loki raised his hands in an innocent gesture, though his mocking smile gave it away. "Nothing bad, I swear. I just… did you a favor."

Xander narrowed his eyes. "I don't like your 'favors'."

Loki laughed. "Oh, come on, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't help you out a little? I put you on the list."

Xander blinked. "What?"

"That's right, dear Xander," she said in a triumphant tone. "You now have a guaranteed place to go down to Genkai. You don't have to thank me… although you could."

Xander sighed heavily, bringing a hand to his face. "Tell me you didn't fake anything."

Loki put on an offended expression. "How can you think that of me?" Xander glared at her.

Loki smiled even wider.

Over the next few years, the routine between Xander and Loki continued. Despite everything, she still came to his domain with the same carefree attitude as always, making mocking comments or simply staying nearby, as if her presence alone was enough to irritate him. And, as always, Xander ended up kicking her out somehow.

Sometimes they talked about mortals, the heroes Xander watched through his mirror. Loki had opinions about everyone, even when he didn't know them, and he didn't hesitate to share them.

Sometimes, they talked about the other gods, their dramas on Olympus, the rumors about the list to descend to Genkai. Loki, being Loki, always found a way to get on Xander's nerves with his carefree attitude.

And sometimes, they just stayed silent.

But one day, without warning, Loki did not appear.

Xander didn't think anything of it at first. Loki wasn't one to stick to a strict schedule. But then another day passed. And another.

And another.

For the first time in a long time, his domain felt… empty.

Not a warning, not a goodbye, nothing.

Xander simply found himself missing, as if he had never been there in the first place. But he knew he had been. For years.

At first, she didn't think anything of it. Loki was unpredictable. Maybe he'd gotten bored. Maybe he'd found someone else to tease. Maybe he just wanted to see how long it would take her to notice.

But the days passed. Then weeks. Then months.

And then, as he looked out at the mortal world through his mirror, he saw her.

Down there.

Loki had already descended into Genkai.

Seeing Loki down there only reaffirmed what Xander had already been feeling for a long time.

It wasn't just the idea of seeing the heroes' exploits in person. It wasn't just the desire to feel the thrill of battle without the barrier of a mirror between him and the action. It was deeper than that.

All the gods he had shared his eternity with, those he had talked with, laughed with, argued with, were all coming down. They were diving into this unknown world, making their own decisions, living their own stories.

And he was still there, watching. Always watching.

No more.

I had to go down.

…

Xander scanned the list once more, refusing to believe what he was being told. But no matter how hard he searched, no matter how hard he tried, his name wasn't there.

"It can't be. There must be a mistake," he said, his voice calm, though his eyes burned with something deeper.

The god in charge, a celestial bureaucrat with the patience of an immortal, barely gave him a glance.

"There is no mistake. You were never on the list."

Xander felt a pang in his chest, a mix of disbelief and anger building inside him.

"No way. Loki told me I signed up."

"Well, he lied to you."

The silence that followed was heavy. Xander barely realized he'd clenched his fists until he felt the pressure in his palms.

Loki had tricked him.

For centuries, he had waited, trusting her word without question. He thought that, as annoying as she was, as much as she enjoyed annoying him, at least she wouldn't lie about something like this.

But he had done it.

And the worst thing wasn't the lie itself. It was the way he left. Without saying anything. Without saying goodbye. He just… disappeared.

Xander closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Damn it, Loki."

And so the centuries passed.

Xander, for the first time in his existence, stood still. He didn't examine the mirror with the same enthusiasm as before, nor did he seek out new feats with the same excitement. He just waited.

One by one, the gods he knew came down to Genkai. Some with great ambitions, others simply out of curiosity. Even Hephaestus, who had taken longer than expected, finally left.

In the end, only Hestia remained.

"Are you still here?" she asked one day, sitting next to him.

Xander didn't look away from the void.

"I don't have many options."

"You could do more than just wait."

"And what would you do? Place bets on who will be next to go down?"

Hestia sighed.

"You know it wasn't personal, right?" Xander didn't respond immediately.

"That doesn't change anything."

Hestia looked at him with a hint of sadness, but didn't insist. She just stood there, silently, accompanying him.

And so the centuries continued to pass.

One day, without warning, his name appeared on the list.

It took Xander a few seconds to react when the god in charge informed him. He had waited so long that it almost seemed like a cruel joke. But it wasn't.

"Finally…" he muttered to himself, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation.

Hestia, who had been with him all this time, smiled softly.

"You're going down then."

Xander nodded slowly.

"Yes. There is nothing tying me here anymore."

Hestia seemed to want to say something more, but in the end she just gave him a sympathetic look.

And so, after centuries of waiting, Xander prepared to descend into Genkai.