As Tet walked through New York City, he heard a system chime.
"New quest—"
"Yeah, no. Enough of that," he said flatly.
"I don't understand," the AI responded.
Tet replied, "One, I know you're not an AI. And two, I'm the God of Games, not you. The whole system thing was fun for a while, but now it's become a hindrance. It's slowing down my fun. So from now on, I'll do my own thing. And don't think I haven't noticed—whether it's credits or quests, every time a key is created, my power is what's being used. Which means I never actually needed you in the first place. I could've been doing it myself the whole time."
From the system panel, he heard laughter.
Gone was the AI voice, replaced by the voice of the Old God who had reincarnated him. After the laughter faded, the Old God said, "I was waiting for you to figure it out. Indeed everything you've done has been through your power alone. The system was, truthfully, only ever meant to be a set of training wheels. I didn't think you'd get the hang of your power that quickly."
Tet smiled. "While I appreciate it, I am the God of Games. And as I said before, being bound by the system only hindered my abilities and limited what I'm capable of."
"True," the Old God agreed. "Well then, from now on, you'll be on your own, little friend. But before I leave you, I have a simple request."
Tet, curious, asked, "Sure. What is it?"
The Old God replied, "Don't limit yourself to just this universe. Go to a few others. I know you like this one and want to help the demigods, but there are others out there who were dealt bad hands. Help them for me, will you?"
Tet smiled warmly. "Not sure if you can call it help. I'm basically just entertaining myself… but okay. I'll do my best."
"Thank you, my friend. Well, till next time then."
And with that, his presence vanished.
"Later, old man," Tet said, then continued on his way.
As he walked, he muttered to himself, "Well, I'm popular today, aren't I?"
Noticing the two guys tailing him, he popped into a diner and found a booth in the corner. A waitress came over and said, "You know what you want, kiddo?"
Tet replied, "Yes. I'll have three orders of burgers and fries with some large Cokes. My guests will be here in a moment."
"Okay, that'll be out in a minute," she said with a smile as she walked away.
A voice spoke up nearby. "Damn… so you did notice us."
Two men walked up and sat across from Tet. One was tan with golden blond hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a confident grin. The other had an elfish air about him—curly black hair, sharp blue eyes, and a more guarded expression.
The blond cleared his throat and said, "Greetings, O powerful—"
"Don't do that," Tet cut him off with a flat look.
"Oh, fine. Kill all the fun," the blond said with a laugh. "I'm Apollo, and this is Hermes. We'd like to discuss something with you, if you don't mind."
Tet replied, "I'd ask how you knew about me, but you're the god of prophecy and knowledge. You may not be able to tell people the future, but that doesn't change the fact that you can make changes—provided you don't mind pissing off the Fates. So… what's so important that you'd take that risk?"
Hermes answered, his usual playfulness notably absent. "I need your help. I want to change my son's fate. And who better to ask than someone the Fates can't control?"
The waitress returned with their food. "Here you go," she said, placing down three plates and three drinks.
"Thank you," they all said in unison.
As Tet took a sip of his Coke, he said, "The events your son will set in motion are already woven into this world's tapestry. Changing that will be dangerous. Until now, I've avoided doing anything too major to piss off the Fates."
Apollo chimed in, "You gave that Di Angelo boy the powers of death himself."
Tet coughed. "Well, the payoff for that won't be for some time. What I'm saying is, I'm not against helping—but we have to be smart about it. While the Fates can't do anything to me, they can to both of you."
Apollo said, "We know. But we also know worst case? You can help us. And don't lie and say you won't—me and Herm are two of the only gods that aren't on your shit list."
Tet snorted. "Yeah, you both did some shady stuff, but nothing in comparison to the others. You two and Hestia are safe from me. But the rest? They better watch their backs."
He chuckled darkly. "Don't worry—I don't plan to do anything major to your sister, Apollo. I'll probably stop at pranks."
Apollo sighed in relief. "As long as she isn't harmed or traumatized."
Tet replied, "I can work with that. Now, on to business, fellas. Putting aside how to help Luke without messing with the Fates..."
He leaned forward with a mysterious gleam in his eyes.
"I assume you two know what you have to do to get a favor from me. So... which one of you is playing?"
Hermes raised his hand. "I was gonna do it myself, but Apollo insisted that he needs to be the one. So... I reluctantly leave it to him."
Apollo said, "Chill, Herm. I've got this. Besides, Tet is gonna hold back."
Tet nodded. "True. If I had you compete against me directly, you'd lose. So instead, I'll have you play a game. If you win, I'll give you what you want."
"Now... divinity off the table, of course," Tet added.
"Naturally. The power to see the future would make things a bit too easy for me—not to mention boring," Apollo replied.
"So what's the game?" Apollo asked.
Tet grinned wide.
"Oh, you'll see. But know this—you'll both be playing together. And I'll be watching from the sidelines."
After they finished their meal, Tet paid the bill with a wave of his hand. In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the diner, reappearing in the tranquil garden of Tet's home—a surreal space where the sky shimmered like stained glass and the air thrummed with magic.
Tet lowered himself into a chair he conjured out of the grass itself, its back curling like ivy. With a snap of his fingers, a golden key appeared, floating gently in the air between them. It gleamed with divine energy, a microphone and a whistle engraved into its surface.
"Last chance," Tet said, his voice calm but heavy with meaning. "You sure about this?"
Hermes didn't hesitate. "Definitely."
He glanced at Apollo, who gave a quiet, steady nod before reaching out and taking the key. He held it aloft, fingers tightening around the cool metal.
The world rippled.
And when the two gods next opened their eyes, everything had changed.
Apollo blinked against the harsh flicker of fluorescent lights, the scent of old vinyl and stale coffee curling into his nose as he sat up in a creaky swivel chair. Around him, the studio felt like a relic—walls paneled in aged wood, consoles covered in buttons and switches he didn't recognize, a neon sign buzzing faintly behind the glass. Everything was unfamiliar: the turntables, the bulky mixer, the reel-to-reel recorder ticking quietly in the background.
From a crackling speaker to his right, Hermes' voice broke through—sharp, disoriented, but unmistakably him. "Apollo? Where the hell are we?"
Apollo glanced around, trying to make sense of it. Stacks of records, a blinking ON AIR sign, dusty maps pinned to a corkboard... this wasn't Olympus. This was some mortal radio station, and by the looks of it, straight out of the 1980s.
"I don't know," he muttered, tapping one of the sliders experimentally. "But I think… we're live."
The air felt charged—like the calm before a storm. And as the red phone on the desk began to ring, Apollo had the sinking feeling that whatever game they'd been dropped into, it was already underway.
The two then heard Tet's voice echo around them.
"Welcome to a game called Killer Frequency," he said cheerfully, with that mischievous lilt only he could manage. "The two of you have taken the place of the game's main characters—Forest and Peggy. The small town of Gallows Creek is about to be terrorized by a serial killer. You must answer phone calls and guide people through the harrowing situations they find themselves in. If even a single person gets murdered… you lose. Everyone survives? You win! Have fun~!"
Apollo grinned, the thrill of a challenge lighting up his face. Cracking his knuckles, he leaned into the microphone with practiced ease and high energy.
"Good morning, Gallows Creek! Welcome to 189.16 The Scream! I'm your host, Apollo—now get settled in for a long night."