Chapter 27: Getting Started

As they left the restaurant, Crowley patted his stomach with a satisfied grin and said, "That is the closest I will ever get to Heaven."

Bobby wiped his mouth with a napkin and sighed. "I hate to agree with the damn demon... but yeah, that was good stuff."

Sam nodded enthusiastically. "That was the best stew I've ever had. No contest."

Dean looked like he was having an out-of-body experience. "I don't think I can ever go back to eating normal burgers again."

Tet, lounging with his arms behind his head, smirked. "Yeah, Gordon's good, but I know someone better."

Crowley raised a brow, curiosity piqued. "Who? Who could possibly be better?"

Just as Tet opened his mouth to answer, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen with a half-lidded look of boredom and answered it casually.

"Is it done? Uh-huh. Okay. Yeah, only kill him if he resists. All right. Good hunting."

He hung up, unfazed.

Everyone stared at him in stunned silence.

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell was that?"

Tet looked up like he'd forgotten the others were even there. "Oh, just the guy I sent after Pestilence. He finished the job. He's on his way to track down Death now."

Dean blinked. "Oh. So just a casual... 'I took down one of the Horsemen' phone call. Got it."

Sam, utterly incredulous, said, "What even is our life right now?"

Tet shrugged lazily. "Long story short? You don't have to worry about the Four Horsemen anymore. What you do need to worry about are Lucifer, Michael, and the other two archangels. I'm not going to be tossing out any superweapons right now, but I can help level the playing field."

With a snap of his fingers, they were all suddenly back in Bobby's house. Tet sat cross-legged on the air, floating slightly above the floor.

"Like I said before, I'm not handing out nuke-tier divine artifacts just yet. First, we need to work on your odds. You're about to go up against archangels, not some bush-league monsters with sharp teeth."

He paused, looking pointedly at the group.

"Oh, and by the way... your monsters suck."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tet scoffed. "Take werewolves, for example. They're just angry people with sharp teeth. Feral. That's it? That's all you get?"

Dean groaned and ran a hand down his face. "Ugh, I know! I've been saying that for years. I wish they looked like the ones in the movies. And don't even get me started on the vampires..."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Amateurs."

Dean looked at Tet. "Anyway, you said you were gonna help even the odds. How?"

Tet smiled mischievously. "You're going to play a few games. In exchange, whatever you win in the games—you keep. As for the other thing... well, that's going to take a bit more time. I'll get back to you on that."

Sam crossed his arms. "Games? What kind of games?"

Tet waved him off. "Fun ones. Stressful ones. Maybe deadly ones. But mostly fun."

Dean scowled. "Yeah, that fills me with confidence."

Tet ignored him and pulled out a sleek black cell phone. He handed it to Castiel.

"That's a direct line to me. If anything urgent happens, call me. I'll be there instantly."

Crowley looked personally offended. "Wait, he gets to have God on speed dial? Why?"

Tet tilted his head and smirked. "Are you an angel?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes. "...No."

Tet beamed. "Didn't think so. He gets the phone. Anyway, like I said, I'll be back in four days."

With a kaleidoscope burst of prismatic light, he vanished into the air—gone in a flurry of color and sparkles.

Dean stared at the now-empty space with a deadpan expression. "Even the way he disappears is childish."

Bobby reached for the nearest bottle of whiskey. "So... I guess we're all friends with God now. I need a drink."

"Me too," Dean muttered.

"Same," Sam added.

Crowley already had a glass in hand. "Welcome to the club."

Castiel blinked at them, holding the phone like it was sacred. "Why are you all acting like this was a bad thing?"

Dean raised a hand. "We're not, Cas. We're just... having trouble processing the fact that we just had dinner with God. Okay? We need a minute."

Castiel nodded solemnly. "I understand. Go relax. I will wait for him to return."

Dean turned and looked at him. "Cas... he's gonna be gone for four days. You're really going to wait right there for four whole days?"

Castiel nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

Dean sighed and walked toward the kitchen. "At least sit down, man..."

Castiel sat in the nearest chair, still holding the phone with both hands like it was holy scripture.

And he waited.

Tet returned to his original world and sighed, a rare flicker of solemnity passing across his usually mischievous face.

"I don't want to do this," he murmured, "but I have to."

Without further hesitation, he teleported to the underworld and began his descent into Tartarus, slowly drifting downward, his feet never touching the ground. He floated deeper and deeper, unseen and unnoticed by every being trapped within the pit. He continued further still, past layers of anguish and ruin, until finally—he reached the bottom.

A pitch-black void surrounded him. No light, no heat, not even the concept of time remained. Only silence.

Tet sat in the emptiness and waited.

After a long moment, a voice echoed through the void—one that was both young and ancient, masculine and feminine, resonating in every part of him.

"I have awaited you, God of Games," the voice said. "It is good to finally meet you."

Tet gave a bittersweet smile. "It's good to meet you too… Chaos. How've you been these last few… eons?"

Chaos responded, its voice slower now, heavy. "Not well, I'm afraid. Have you come to claim what is rightfully yours?"

Tet's eyes lowered, his tone softer. "Is there really no other way? Can I not save you?"

"Do not fret, young one," Chaos answered gently. "This is not the end for me... but a new beginning. I will not be truly gone. My soul shall become a mere fragment of a fragment, scattered. I will be reborn—somewhere else, as someone else. I may never be a god again, but I will live. The only reason I have not left is because I could not safely do so until I knew this world had a new caretaker."

"You are not ending me, young one," Chaos said, fading slightly, "You are freeing me."

From the darkness, a single object emerged—a chess piece formed from the very fabric of the universe. It was black, swirling with starlight and cosmic threads. In its center was an engraving of a chessboard.

Just as he had once before, Tet reached out, took the piece, and absorbed it into his soul.

And just like before, he felt the vastness of the universe—the weight of time, the breath of galaxies, the dreams of all living things. But unlike before, he remained grounded. The sea of consciousness did not overwhelm him.

At that very moment, across the multiverse, every sentient creature felt a subtle shift. They could not say what had changed—only that something had.

Everyone felt it.

Everyone, except Apollo.

He reclined lazily in his golden throne, an easy smile spreading across his face.

"A lot of things are about to change," he whispered to himself, eyes glowing with anticipation. "And I can't wait."

---

Back with Tet, Chaos's voice echoed again, weaker now.

"It seems the assimilation is complete. This world… is yours now. Treat it well."

Tet bowed his head in respect.

Chaos's presence flickered like a dying ember. "Farewell, young one. May we meet again in another time… another place. Though I fear, I will not remember any of this…"

"Farewell."

And then—Chaos was gone.

Completely.

Tet floated upward, the weight in his chest heavier than usual, and returned home.

Back in his realm, Tet waved a hand and conjured a floating island from thin air. Upon it stood two massive monuments—each displaying a glowing, rotating representation of a planet. One represented his original universe. The other... the Supernatural universe.

Tet approached the latter and stared into it, arms folded and brows drawn together.

"Compared to this universe," he muttered, "it's so... bare bones. It lacks support in so many places."

He paused in thought.

"What does this universe have that the Supernatural one doesn't…?"

Then, the realization struck him like lightning.

"Gods," he said aloud, eyes widening. "It has gods."

He paced slightly as he continued, "The gods of the Supernatural universe aren't real gods. They're just overpowered monsters that humans decided to worship out of fear or desperation. But here, in this world? The gods have true divinity. They shape the world. They sustain it. They give it meaning."

His hands clenched into fists.

"I know what I need to do. But… I need to be careful. For now, only those I trust will be brought into this."

As if on cue, golden flames erupted nearby and Hestia arrived in her usual flash of gentle radiance. She wore her brown robe, and her soft smile lit up the realm like a warm hearth.

"Tet!" she called cheerfully, waving. "I've come to play!"

She made her way toward him, stopping as she stepped onto the floating island. Her eyes widened at the sight of the monuments.

"Ooooh, what are those?"

Her curiosity lasted only a second before recognition set in. She blinked slowly.

"Tet… did you claim two universes and create access terminals… in the single day I've been gone?"

Tet scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "...Maybe?"

Hestia let out a long sigh and walked over to the supernatural globe, studying it closely. "What's this universe called?"

Tet shrugged. "It… doesn't really have a name. Just another version of Earth. I've been calling it the 'Supernatural Universe'—for, well… obvious reasons. I should probably give it an actual name... same for this one, honestly."

Hestia raised a brow. "So... how'd you become capital-G God while I was gone?"

Tet smirked. "Oh, it was simple. I went down to Tartarus, talked to Chaos, and they gave me the universe just before they faded away."

Hestia stared at him.

Blankly.

Lights on. No one home.

After a long, confused silence, she finally spoke.

"Okay… as long as everything's still here and not on fire… But I'm going to be dropping by more often now."

Tet narrowed his eyes. "You make it sound like I need babysitting."

She didn't respond. Instead, she returned her attention to the supernatural globe, placing a hand on her hip.

"This world feels… wrong," she said slowly. "If I had to compare it to something, I'd say it's like a fancy-looking package with nothing inside. The system running it feels basic—like no real thought went into the design."

Tet's eyes lit up, and he pointed at her excitedly. "Exactly! You get it. I was just thinking about how to fix that. Ideally, I'd just tear the whole thing down and rebuild it… but that would probably wipe out all life on the planet. Or just straight-up explode the Earth."

Hestia gave a concerned look. "Yeah… don't do that."

"I won't," Tet said quickly. "So instead, I'm going to start connecting other gods to it—to strengthen the foundation. The gods will get a power boost, and the universe will be revitalized along with its people."

He turned to her, hopeful. "And I thought I'd start with your Divinity—of the hearth and home. If you don't mind, that is."

Hestia arched an elegant brow. "And if I say no?"

Tet gave her a cheeky grin. "Well… do you know how to get a hold of Frigg?"

Hestia's eyes narrowed. She immediately grabbed his cheek and pulled. Hard.

"OW—okay, okay! I'm kidding! You're my first and only choice!"

She let go with a satisfied smile. "Good answer. And yes. I'd love to take on my role in another universe—as long as there are no negative side effects."

Tet nodded. "Don't worry. You'll be able to travel freely between both worlds. You'll receive a massive power boost. And most importantly, your blessing of the hearth and home will spread to that world. The people living there will feel a sense of safety and peace they've never known. They'll live happier, healthier lives… and be less likely to get eaten by monsters inside their own homes."

Hestia's eyes widened. "Wait. People in that world get eaten by monsters? And you're talking about regular mortals—not demigods?"

Tet nodded solemnly. "Connect. You'll see."

Without hesitation, Hestia stepped forward and placed her hand on the globe. She channeled her divine energy into it, and in that moment, she linked herself to the Supernatural universe.

Her blessing surged across the Earth like wildfire.

Every man, woman, and child felt it. A wave of warmth washed over their homes. Adults were filled with childhood memories—of laughter, comfort, and protection. Children felt as though they were being cradled by their mother.

And Hestia… she became tethered to billions of lives and hearths across the world.

Power rushed into her like a tide she hadn't felt in millennia.

A soft, radiant smile formed on her face.

She could feel what Tet had sensed—monsters. Countless, indiscriminate, and deadly. But now, her blessing formed an invisible shield. No monster could breach the sanctity of a home under her protection.

On Olympus, Apollo and Hermes were lounging in the throne room, casually chatting. Suddenly, the hearth at the center of the chamber erupted in a kaleidoscope of divine power. The flame blazed high for a moment—vibrant, alive—then returned to a steady, deeper burn.

But it was different now.

Stronger. Wiser. More present.

Apollo blinked. "Damn. He asked her first."

Hermes tilted his head. "What are you talking about?"

Apollo grinned. "Oh, you'll find out soon. Our turn's next."

---

Back in Tet's realm, Hestia stepped away from the globe. Her aura glowed brighter, her very presence radiating warmth and security. She looked divine.

She practically tackled Tet in a warm embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you. I feel amazing. This is the greatest gift anyone's ever given me."

Tet hugged her back gently. "You're welcome, my friend. No one deserves it more than you."

She pulled back, glowing.

"But about this other world... You were right. As soon as I connected to it, I saw the problems. And... this may upset you, but... you need Artemis."

Tet groaned. "Seriously?"

Hestia nodded firmly. "The hunters are the only defense mortals have in that world. But they don't have a patron. If Artemis backed them up, their chances of survival would skyrocket."

Tet sighed. "You make it sound like I've got a grudge against her. I'm just… miffed. She's letting her Divinity of Maidenhood overtake everything else. It's holding her back."

"True," Hestia agreed, "but she's still vital. And she won't refuse a request from the new Almighty."

"I don't want to force anyone," Tet said seriously. "If she does this, I want it to be because she wants to."

Hestia smiled knowingly. "I'm pretty sure she will. Think about it. A planet full of hunters in desperate need of a patron? She'll jump at the chance."

Tet ran a hand through his hair. "Fine… you've made your point. I'll have Apollo get me in contact with her next time he stops by."

Back in the Supernatural universe, Strife strolled into a quiet local pizza joint, casual and confident, like he owned the place. His coat swayed behind him with every step, boots thudding softly on the tile floor.

He walked up to a corner booth where an old man with slicked-back gray hair and a long black trench coat sat calmly, eating pizza with a fork and knife—one deliberate bite at a time.

Strife didn't ask. He just dropped into the chair across from him with a thud, legs wide and posture relaxed, but there was nothing friendly in his presence. He glanced around at the staff—waiters, waitresses, cooks—and gave a single two-finger wave.

They didn't know why, but suddenly they felt it—something primal, ancient, and wrong. A sick sense of dread wrapped around their spines and whispered run.

And so, they did.

Every one of them bolted out of the store as fast as their legs could carry them, not daring to look back.

Strife turned his attention back to the old man across from him, his smirk sharpening. He reached into his coat, pulled out his sleek pistol, and placed it on the table with a loud clunk.

"We can do this the easy way," he said, voice cool but with a violent gleam in his eyes, "or the hard way. Personally..." He leaned forward with a crooked grin. "I prefer the hard way. So—what's it gonna be, old-timer?"

Death looked up from his plate slowly. He didn't flinch. Didn't frown. Just calmly wiped his mouth with a napkin and said in a flat, gravelly voice, "You're not the first person who's tried to kill me... and you probably won't be the last."

He placed his fork down and pushed the plate aside.

"You can tell whoever sent you... that I'll be seeing them soon."

Strife scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Yeah, that doesn't really work for me."

Death stood up, unfazed. His expression remained eerily calm—but his ancient, bone-deep power began to crackle in the air around him.

"I don't care what works for you," he said, voice colder than the grave.

He began walking toward Strife—slowly, deliberately—each step echoing like a death knell. His long coat dragged behind him like a funeral shroud, and his presence filled the room with an oppressive chill.

Then, in one hand, he summoned his weapon. The infamous scythe appeared in a flicker of darkness—cold, sleek, and deadly. It shimmered with the essence of finality itself.

"I gave you a chance to leave," Death said, voice low and ominous. "You did not take it. Now... you will perish."

He raised the scythe—

CRACK!

A gunshot rang out like thunder.

Before Death could even swing, Strife had already drawn and fired. The bullet slammed dead center into the scythe's blade—

—and shattered it.

Pieces of it clanged to the floor, breaking like glass under god-killing force.

Death staggered back in stunned silence, staring at the remains of his once-indestructible weapon.

"That's... impossible," he muttered, his hollow eyes wide for the first time in millennia.

And then, he finally saw Strife.

He wasn't just another would-be assassin. Not some fool with a shiny toy and a death wish.

He was a Horseman.

A legitimate threat.

Death backed up slowly, hands rising in a rare gesture of surrender. His composure cracked as fear crept into his voice.

"Let's be reasonable," he said. "You don't want a world without death. The chaos that would bring—"

"—would be catastrophic. The consequences would be dire. Blah, blah, blah." Strife mimicked him with exaggerated sarcasm. "Yeah, I know all that already."

His tone darkened.

"My employer said he was fine with you sticking around... but only if you cooperated. No resistance. No arrogance. No talking down to me like I'm some rookie with a toy gun."

He stood up, slow and smooth, holstering one pistol and raising the other to eye level.

"Because if you did—well, then he doesn't need you. Doesn't want someone with more ambition than they're worth."

He sighed, then smiled coldly.

"So goodbye, Death. It was short… but I'm so glad our little conversation is finally over."

Death turned and tried to run—long coat whipping behind him as he made a break for the door—

BANG!

One shot. Clean. Precise.

The bullet ripped through the back of Death's skull and blew out the front with a burst of black ichor and pale light. His body collapsed to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.

Strife stared at him for a moment, unmoved.

Then he tossed a few crumpled bills onto the counter.

"Didn't even put up a damn fight," he muttered as he holstered his gun. "Pathetic."

He turned, pushed open the door, and walked out into the cold air, cracking his neck with a roll of his shoulders.

"Hopefully, next time the boss sends me on a job…" he said as he climbed onto Mayhem, his hellish steed gleaming with runed armor and glowing eyes, "...it'll be someone worth fighting."

And with a flash of fire and smoke, Strife rode off into the night.

Rode off into the night