Yuno_Jiro

Death isn’t a punishment. It’s a certainty.

Nico D’Angelo wakes up to the taste of blood and the sound of his own bones breaking.

Paradox of the Olympian Gods isn’t just a game—it’s a slaughterhouse, where players are nothing but pawns and the gods revel in their suffering.

Beaten, stripped of everything, and marked for death, Nico has one rule: survive.

But in a world where fate is a noose and mercy is a myth, the only way out is through carnage, betrayal, and divine wrath.

The gods want him broken. The players want him dead. Fate wants him erased.

Too bad.

He’s going to burn Olympus to the ground.

Surviving Olympus

The pain was sharp and subsided for a second before rising again.

Nico D'Angelo abruptly opened his eyes and screamed.

He wasn't scared, but the amount of pain he was feeling was otherworldly.

To shut him up, a man standing above shoved the heel of his boot onto his mouth, almost breaking his teeth but leaving behind a bloody mess.

Then, other men joined the fray and began stomping on Nico, their smiles and dry chuckles etched into his memory.

He felt disoriented, angry and confused.

Red holographic screens flashed before him and his vision turned blood red, indicating that he might be getting closer to death.

He slowly closed his eyes but opened them when one of the men gently tapped him on his cheek.

"Don't go dying on us now. I'd hate to be cursed by a new player," he said with a wide grin on his face.

"Strip the fucker and take his coins—I ain't leavin' empty-handed."

The men did as they were told and dragged Nico to a nearby empty alley by his hair.

They then opened up a dumpster and flung his body inside, shutting the hatch and laughing as they left.

Inside, completely enveloped in the dark, Nico's face was covered in bruises, a black eye had formed and he was in tears.

His ribs, arms and entire body were sore.

On top of that, his confusion didn't leave him.

But, after a few seconds, the pain lessened, making it easier for him to move.

He took deep breaths as he lifted the dumpster's door and crawled out of the trash.

He fell to his knees and coughed, his body trembling on the cold, hard ground.

Nico was so perplexed by what had just happened that he hadn't noticed that the sky was grey and it was raining cats and dogs.

His eyes landed on a nearby puddle and he immediately felt his stomach turn inside out while his heart pounded.

His reflection stared back at him.

Bloodied, plum–skinned, eyes widened with an amalgamation of fear and disbelief.

Soft and silky white hair, too beautiful to be natural, almost as if someone had been taking care of it for him.

His skin was pale but clear with a defined jawline and an impeccably handsome face.

Everything from his skin colour to the blood coursing through his veins felt alien to him; this wasn't his body.

Crimson irises and dark circles beneath the skin of his eyes.

Nico scoffed. Then, he slowly chuckled, until his chuckles turned into laughter.

He held his naked body and continued laughing through the storm.

"What kind... of sick game is this...? Why... do I look like my original character, Vortex?"

Prologue