Lin Xiang found herself intrigued. What new role would the New Gods offer in exchange for neutrality? Balor had received dominion over wine—what would she be given?
Balor led her into the back room of the tavern, where a television flickered to life. From its screen emerged World Father himself, clad in an immaculate suit, and beside him, the Media Goddess in her pink gown.
Lin Xiang's pulse barely wavered. The top-tier deities of the New Pantheon were here—but she could not afford even a single misstep.
World Father tipped his hat with a smile that never reached his eyes. His gaze, pale as ash, held an unnatural stillness—as if he were more machine than man.
"Viviane," he greeted smoothly. "The Lady of the Lake. An honor."
She lowered her hood, curtsying lightly. "Your time is valuable. I doubt you summoned me merely for flattery."
Her tone was light, but her mind remained sharp. "I am curious about this new identity of mine. If it pleases me, I will refuse Odin's invitation."
World Father gestured to the table. Beneath his hand lay a familiar object.
Lin Xiang smiled—a slow, knowing curve of her lips—as she lifted the die from its resting place. "Perfect."
The meeting ended swiftly. World Father chuckled as the die spun across the table. "All casinos are now your domain. Enjoy yourself."
The role suited Viviane well. Fortune and Fate intertwined in gambling—power Lin Xiang could feed upon. Her divine essence would soon recover, restoring her to full strength.
Yet before departing, she let one final vision slip through her fingers.
The die rolled, landing with a soft click .
In its wake, a fleeting image appeared—an infernal bull standing beneath the World Tree, flames wreathing its horns. Then came a field of endless skulls, vanishing like mist.
World Father's expression darkened. He had seen something in that vision—something Lin Xiang did not understand, yet clearly unsettled him.
"A warning," she murmured. "From fate's own mouth."
His smile vanished. "Then heed it well, goddess. You will not regret your choice."
With that, he and the Media Goddess faded from sight.
Only then did Lin Xiang exhale.
Now cloaked in Viviane's guise, she arrived in Las Vegas—a city of neon, vice, and boundless possibility.
The largest casino in the Americas pulsed with energy. Rolling dice and spinning wheels captivated thousands. Yet Lin Xiang did not immediately draw upon the worship—they would come in time. Instead, she moved among them, balancing fortune and misfortune with careful precision.
Wins and losses echoed through the halls, a symphony of human emotion.
Gambling ensured eternal devotion. Wealth and fate were temptations few mortals could resist—and those who ruled such domains thrived accordingly.
But another presence stirred within the casino.
A goddess draped in rich, dark skin and adorned with peacock-feather fans reclined against a gambler's arm. Her beauty was undeniable—yet there was something crude in it, something raw. Like a masterpiece defaced by careless hands.
She noticed Viviane at once, setting aside her fan with a coy smile.
"Welcome, Lady of the Lake." Her voice was honeyed, smooth as silk. "I am Biche."
Lin Xiang recognized the ancient power within her—raw desire woven into divinity itself. Though the name carried an unfortunate resemblance to modern slang, she saw through the disguise.
A fallen goddess seeking refuge in the new world.
"Call me Viviane," she replied easily. "And you have my thanks."
Biche's smile deepened, sensing Lin Xiang's subtle kindness. "Vulcanus was slain by Odin not long ago. We should remain cautious."
The former Roman god of forging had become the patron of firearms in the modern age. Under his protection, the New Gods had forged weapons capable of slaying immortals. Now, with Vulcanus gone, their supply had been severed.
Odin has made his move, Lin Xiang mused. This is no longer just a game.
She extended the enchanted die toward Biche. "We shall do well together."
Understanding the gesture, Biche kissed the die gently.
Luck turned in the gambler's favor. He shouted joyfully, calling her his "Fortune Goddess."
As men flocked around her, Lin Xiang watched with quiet amusement.
Behind her, a tall figure stepped forward.
"You always knew how to make an entrance," he muttered.
She turned slowly. "Sweeney."
The name escaped her lips like a sigh. Once known as Lugh—the Radiant King—he now stood diminished, reduced to a mere leprechaun in form.
His fall from grace was tragic.
Once, he had slain his grandfather Balor, ascending as the Tuatha Dé Danann's greatest warrior-king. But with the coming of the cross-bearing invaders, the old temples fell. His altars crumbled into churches. And when his people abandoned him, he fled—his legacy tarnished by cowardice.
"I didn't expect to find you here," he admitted.
Lin Xiang signaled for champagne. "You're late."
He gave a wry chuckle. "Perhaps I never should have come."
She studied him carefully. "World Father and the Media Goddess stood before me. You know I had no choice."
He sighed. "Still playing both sides."
"I choose survival," she corrected. "Tell me, why are you here?"
Sweeney hesitated, then spoke. "I seek vengeance."
The word hung heavy between them.
Lin Xiang sipped her drink. "Then we may yet be allies."
For in this new world, gods rose and fell on the roll of a die.
And the game had only just begun.
Sweeney—once Lugh the Radiant—fell into silence, his gaze distant.
"I wish to die as a warrior," he finally murmured. "With honor."
Lin Xiang let out a soft laugh, neither cruel nor kind. "Do you truly believe it is not too late?"
She studied him with quiet intensity. "When courage was needed most, you turned away. No matter how many battles you fight now, they cannot erase that past."
Her voice softened, though her words did not. "Do not let guilt and regret lead you to death. Live. Only through survival can there be redemption."
She gestured toward the city's neon glow. "If the old gods could fall, who says the new ones will last forever?"
Sweeney remained troubled, memories long buried stirring beneath Viviane's presence. Lin Xiang's words had not swayed him from his chosen path—but they had planted a seed.
He shifted tactics, urging her back to the Old Gods' side.
"Can you truly bear to watch the New Gods trample your dignity?"
He pointed toward Biche, reveling in mortal indulgence across the room.
"She was once a queen so mighty even Solomon knelt before her, offering himself as lover and vassal."
His voice darkened. "Now look at her—selling her body for belief. Does this not terrify you?"
Lin Xiang's expression did not waver. "You see only her fall, not her endurance."
She met his eyes, unflinching. "I admire her resilience. Many gods came to this land and vanished into oblivion. She remains."
Human desire had twisted the divine. Love had become lust, purity lost to indulgence. Yet within this decay, Biche still clung to something sacred.
"Love should be the union of two souls—born of longing, strengthened by devotion," Lin Xiang mused. "But mortals seek only pleasure now, ignoring the deeper bond."
Biche could have reshaped herself into a Queen of Desire, feared and revered by both pantheons alike. Instead, she chose to preserve the essence of love itself—even if the world no longer honored it.
Lin Xiang fixed Sweeney with a knowing stare. "In that, she is more worthy of worship than you ever were."
The fallen king said nothing. After a long pause, he exhaled.
"You are beyond my reach, Viviane. Be well."
"I have no intention of drawing Odin's ire," she replied evenly. "My neutrality is carefully negotiated."
He left without another word.
Moments later, Biche approached, radiant from a recent ritual.
"A troublemaker?" she asked, eyeing the empty space where Sweeney had stood.
Lin Xiang smiled faintly. "A soul seeking guidance."
Biche arched a brow. "And did he find any?"
"In time, perhaps," Lin Xiang replied. "Though I fear he may repeat his mistakes."
For days after, Lin Xiang walked among the casinos, weaving threads of fortune and misfortune with measured intent. Through gambling, belief flowed like an endless river. Her strength grew steadily—soon reaching the level of a Middle-Tier Deity.
Comparable to Mazu. Comparable even to the Media Goddess.
The old gods who once ruled these lands had faded. Yet here she stood—renewed, restored.
She returned to Chinatown weeks later, summoned by a letter delivered through Oestara's Easter bunnies.
The goddess would host a grand celebration under her modern name, Eostre. Many deities would attend. She had not forgotten Lin Xiang's role in rescuing Giselle—thus, an invitation arrived, sealed with painted eggs and spring blossoms.
Mazu said little of Lin Xiang's newfound power. She merely set down her teacup and remarked, "We do not celebrate Easter. But gaining allies is never a bad thing."
Lin Xiang agreed. Whether for diplomacy or demonstration, she had reason to go.
On the day of the festival, she appeared in full regalia—an elaborate ensemble of lapis and amber, layered robes nearly suffocating in their opulence.
As soon as she stepped into her dragon-drawn carriage, however, decorum fell away.
"This is absurd," she muttered, removing the jeweled hairpin and twisting her hair into a loose knot. Adjusting her silk sleeves, she sighed in relief. "How does anyone move in this?"
Mazu chuckled, handing over the gift for Oestara. "Let them see your strength. It will give the others hope—and remind our rivals we are not weak."
Indeed, the Eastern pantheon had grown thin. Only Mazu remained as its pillar. Lin Xiang's rise gave them renewed confidence. In a world where even lesser gods trembled at the New Pantheon's growing dominance, her presence offered reassurance.
Dressed in a simple qipao embroidered with magnolia and jasmine, Lin Xiang took the reins and soared skyward.
Oestara's woodland villa shimmered with festive cheer. Hydrangeas bloomed in vivid hues. Colored eggs nestled among the foliage. Spring's warmth lingered even in the air.
Lin Xiang arrived early—just as Oestara entertained a curious gathering.
Several figures in white robes stood nearby—each bearing the same serene smile, the same halo-like radiance.
She blinked. "Are those…?"
"Different versions," Oestara explained lightly. "Each shaped by regional beliefs. Some darker-skinned, some fair, some yellow-toned. They all call themselves the same name."
Lin Xiang stared, stunned. "Christianity really has splintered, hasn't it?"
She handed her gift to the rabbits and followed Oestara outside.
"They do not act on their own," the goddess whispered, linking arms with her. "They exist solely through faith. Attack them, and they may react—but otherwise, they remain passive."
She sipped wine, watching the gathered spirits. "These saints bring comfort. They walk upon water, return from death. But beyond that? Little else remains."
Lin Xiang nodded slowly. If the true Christos still lived, he would not have allowed his image to be fractured so.
Perhaps he had already perished.
Or perhaps he waited in the shadows, biding his time.
Either way, the party had begun.
And fate was about to turn once more.
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