“The escape plan will use myself as the source. However…,” Nagato added, face slightly flushed. “My calculations show we’re short on the energy required for the starter. We won’t be able to trigger it.”
Not even with Hera’s and Aphrodite’s powers combined with Athena’s?
“I require it internally.”
So the self-starter didn’t have enough force to get the engine running?
All three of us looked at one man.
He managed a wrinkly smile.
“Then allow me to help. I shall lend you the power of one more god.”
Didn’t think you could.
“I am the god of gods, the omnipotent Zeus. This is nothing.”
He waved a scepter, and a spotlight from heaven shone down upon him.
A very stagelike effect—and apparently it was meant to be, since the Greek and Roman soldiers battling onstage all prostrated themselves before him.
A narration echoed from somewhere. “Zeus demanded a duel between each army’s best warriors.”
The invaders appointed Ajax, and the defenders Hector. Both men strode to the center of the stage.
One eye on that, the old man held his scepter over Nagato’s head.
“Thou who trod on blades of green, racing ’cross plains like the wind itself. Guardian of nature’s breath, dance, and the hunter’s arts. Your divine power like a shout echoing o’er arid lands, like a bowstring drawn taunt. With everlasting dignity and the light of the moon, descend!”
The glow around Nagato grew brighter.
“…………”
She sat there mute, and two lights overlapped with hers.
One a goddess of war, in valiant armor. The other a chaste goddess, wielding a bow with a tender smile.
Something wriggled at the edge of my vision, and I turned to see a new relief spreading across the throne where Nagato had been seated. White marguerite flowers, and a symbol impossible to misread—the moon.
In addition to Athena’s power, Nagato now embodied Artemis. This made her so divine it took considerable nerve to even look directly at her.
“Figured it was worth a shot,” the old man muttered. “Is that enough?”
He seemed proud of himself. Nagato opened and closed her glowing palms, staring at them.
✦ ✦ ✦
✦ ✦ ✦
“Thank you,” she said.
“Not to put a price on it, but would you take me with you? I mean, assuming that is even possible. I’m aware it’s a tall order.”
“I’ll do the math.”
A spotlight appeared above Nagato’s head. Onstage, the actress playing Athena was giving her blessing to the Greek representative, Ajax. An effective presentation.
Athena Yuki Artemis Nagato considered things for approximately one second.
“It is feasible in terms of data energy quantity. I propose you assume a messenger role. You’ll be given a command code, which will be executed mechanically. It’s unclear where your consciousness will be preserved once the transfer is complete.”
Rare to see her either this proactive or this verbose. Koizumi and I were both gaping at her.
Oblivious to this, the old-timer nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll follow your lead on this. Just say the word.”
Koizumi recovered faster than I did, muttering, “You couldn’t call Apollo down on me?”
The old man shot him a look so barbed it made a sound effect.
“You do have some of his vibes, but I’d say your character has more in common with Hermes.”
“That would suit me fine, Father Zeus,” Koizumi replied, theatrically.
“No need,” Nagato said, dismissing the idea.
Onstage, the duel ended in a draw, but as the stalemate seemed set to resume, the Trojan army led a furious counterattack. With Hector in the lead, their momentum was stupendous, and the Greeks were forced back off the beach and onto their ships. On the defensive, even their leader, Agamemnon, was wounded—and then the ships caught fire. Even in these dire straits, the rift between Agamemnon and Achilles was so great the latter refused to lift a finger. Achilles’ bestest friend, Patroclus, went out in his stead and, at the climax of a furious battle, was slain by Hector. In his lamentations, Achilles tore through the enemy, recovered his friend’s body, and finally made his peace with Agamemnon. As the demigod hero stood before the Trojans as their greatest enemy—Nagato stood up, too.
The tiny, short-haired goddess moved behind us, putting her hands on Koizumi’s and my shoulders. Her flat voice whispered in our ears.
“Temporarily hijacking your vision. This is the world as I see it.”
The thin fingers on my shoulder tightened their grip, and my eyes filled with light. I closed them on reflex, but the glow was undiminished. What my optic nerves detected was not light, but the visual information Nagato’s eyes perceived.
Koizumi let out a groan.
“This is truly something.”
A dazzling aura flowing out of Haruhi, growing even brighter around Asahina, swirling at stupendous speeds. Like the aurora crossed with a typhoon.
Nagato extended a hand, and the flowing aura traced a spiral, gathering round Athena’s / Artemis’s hand, forming a vortex centered on Nagato herself.
Haruhi’s power, Hera’s strength, Asahina’s concept, Aphrodite’s essence, Nagato’s cosmic force, and the divinity of both Artemis and Athena, all made visible. It was so overwhelming it sent a chill down my spine. Uh-oh. I was seriously starting to get why the ancients were so scared of their gods. Faced with a tremendous entity of a fundamentally different nature, the instinctive awe shook us to our genetic cores, making my very soul break out in a cold sweat.
And then the light was gone.
The songbird-like weight on my shoulder vanished. Nagato had let go and was seated at the table once more.
I was relieved yet still sweating. I heard Koizumi sigh.
“My word, that was a sight for the ages. Extremely educational. I would quite like to remember it, but perhaps I should not hope for the impossible.”
“Itsuki Koizumi.”
Had Nagato ever used his full name before? My memories were hardly reliable to begin with, so no use searching through them. Koizumi scratched his head, looking bashful for some reason.
“I shall eliminate your concern.”
Nagato sounded unprecedentedly sure of herself. Perhaps a side effect of the double goddess system.
“I can’t help but worry about Suzumiya’s presence.” Koizumi nodded. “We’re embarking on a battle with an advantage far greater than ninety-nine to one. Ordinarily, we could feel secure about the outcome; but Suzumiya’s powers are unaffected by mere statistics. What measures are you taking?”
“Setting an objective observer.”
Her answer made him raise a brow.
“By which you mean someone who’s role is to decide which of us is real, those of us in the real world or those of us dressed for this scene?”
“Yes.”
Koizumi looked at Nagato’s clothes and his own toga.
“If we return to the real world like this, then Suzumiya would descend upon the world as a mythological goddess. Asahina and Nagato as well.”
The ultimate nightmare.
“So who are you appointing as this observer?”
“Not telling,” Nagato said, looking at me. “There is potential for prior knowledge of the observation process to diminish the objectivity of it. Ignorance is vital.”
“So you plan to have a genuine third party observe the (r) version of ourselves, converging the quantized state via that perception. I won’t ask who, but I’m assuming they’re someone with some proximity to us, but not too close—and someone who possesses a realistic sensibility.”
“An accurate understanding.”
So someone would compare our real-world selves to us wearing Greek and Roman robes, and decide which of us was more real. Anyone remotely normal would decide those of us dressed funny were clearly mad.
“But how?” Koizumi asked.
“It’s possible to affect the real world from here for a very short time.”
Here she turned to Zeus, who’d been listening with evident curiosity.
“I can’t take you in that form.”
“Ho,” he said, stroking his beard. “What form should I take?”