I watched the blinding golden light fade from the grand marble pillars of my throne room as Ikaris vanished to execute his assignment. The absolute silence of the Divine Space washed over me, a stark contrast to the chaotic, vibrant energy of the Digital World I had just been observing. I leaned back into the massive, polished white stone of my throne, the golden plates of my armor shifting with a heavy, metallic clink. A deep, frustrated sigh escaped my lips. Outsmarting the young boy wonder and manipulating the young heroes of Earth had been incredibly amusing, but the lingering adrenaline only highlighted a bitter reality I had been trying to ignore.
I was weak.
Yes, I was a god. Yes, I was currently twenty times faster, stronger and thought faster than any normal human. But this was the DC universe. Even of only the Young Justice iteration of it, which was arguably one of the tamest timelines, was still a terrifying place for a fledgling deity to exist. This was a reality populated by immortal tyrants, intergalactic conquerors, reality-warping magicians, and beings who could punch holes through dimensions. If Darkseid, Vandal Savage, or even a rogue Kryptonian decided to glance in my direction right now, my so-called divine body would be turned into paste. I hated that feeling. I hated my old life on Earth precisely because I had been powerless and utterly ordinary. I had been given a second chance, gifted with an incredible system and godhood, and I absolutely refused to spend this new life hiding in my temple because I wasn't strong enough to walk among the mortals without fear.
"System," I called out, my voice ringing with authority across the vast, empty halls of the Uruk-inspired temple. "I want you to list all the ways available for me to get stronger. And I hope the list isn't too small."
A translucent blue screen materialized instantly in the air before me, the soft, glowing text scrolling downward with practiced efficiency. The System's familiar, formal tone echoed directly into my mind, carrying its usual undercurrent of dry, calculated pragmatism.
"The system has to tell the host now not to get his hopes up," the System stated smoothly. "The list is rather small. However, the available paths to divine ascension are clearly defined. There are four primary methods for you to increase your power."
I narrowed my glowing green eyes, leaning forward slightly. "Let's hear them. All of them."
"Method one," the System began, bringing up a rotating holographic diagram of my own divine body. "You can simply wait. As a true deity, you will naturally grow stronger as you age. Think of the Asgardians from the Marvel universe of your past life. They accrue power, durability, and magical potency simply by existing over millennia. But unlike them who possess mortal bodies hosting divine power and die of old age, you are a truly immortal being who can live forever. Furthermore, your divine body is built to adapt; it will never break down or degrade no matter how much raw power you accumulate over the centuries. However, this method requires immense patience."
I scoffed quietly. I barely had the patience to wait a few days for the Young Justice team to clear a dungeon zone. Waiting thousands of years to throw a decent punch wasn't going to cut it. "Skip to the next one."
"Method two," the System continued, the screen shifting to show hundreds of tiny, glowing silhouettes representing dungeon divers. "As the Dungeon God, your power is intrinsically linked to the trials you oversee. As your dungeon divers grow stronger—mentally, physically, and in their respective abilities—you grow stronger alongside them. It is a symbiotic accumulation of energy. However, you will only receive a fractional percentage of their total growth. For this method to truly be effective and propel you to the heights you desire, you will need tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of divers growing in your dungeons simultaneously. Four adolescent heroes will barely register on your cosmic scale."
I ran a hand through my white hair, processing the math. I needed to open more gates. The three themed dungeons I was going to open in Gotham, Metropolis, and Star City were a start, but I needed mass participation. Still, even that would take time to build up without the Justice League doing their best in shutting me down. "What else?"
"Method three," the System said, and the blue text seemed to pulse with a slightly dismissive rhythm. "This is the main method most traditional gods use. Create a cult. Have your followers pray to you. Their faith and worship will generate raw divine energy that directly empowers you. But this method comes with a severe drawback: this power is not truly yours. It is borrowed. If your followers stop believing in you, or if they die, the power evaporates instantly. The system does not recommend using this method. Mortal followers are incredibly fickle. They are quick to abandon their gods at the slightest inconvenience, tragedy, or unanswered prayer. Relying on them is a severe tactical vulnerability."
I nodded slowly. The System was right. Human history was basically a long, bloody record of people changing gods whenever the weather got bad or their crops failed. I had zero interest in being a hostage to the changing moods of humanity. Not to say that some of the gods didn't deserve to be abandoned mind you but this path is not my path.
"And the final option?" I asked, my curiosity peaking.
"Method four," the System announced, the text glowing a brighter, more intense shade of blue. I could almost hear a predatory edge in its formal tone. "You, or one of your divine servants, can go out and steal the divinity of other gods to grow your own. Assuming you can defeat said god, of course. It is a very simple process. Once the target deity is incapacitated, if you are personally present, the system can help you absorb the divine power straight from their core. If a follower defeats them, they can perform a ritual sacrifice to transfer the energy directly to you."
The screen flashed with tactical readouts, projecting a map of the Earth with dozens upon dozens of faint, golden blips scattered across the globe.
"The system actually highly recommends this path," it continued, heavily advocating for the slaughtering of what it clearly viewed as lesser beings. "As long as you go after the Old Gods of this reality and leave the New Gods of Apokolips and New Genesis alone for now, you should be fine. The vast majority of the Old Gods on this planet are not even half as strong as they used to be. They all relied heavily if not completely on the faith method for their power, and as the modern age abandoned them, they withered a good deal of them out right died. They are sitting exactly where you are right now: desperate and stagnant. As long as you pick the right target and bring a few of your Eternals along to assist, the system believes you can easily pull it off."
I sat back, staring at the glowing map. God-hunting. It was a brutally efficient, aggressive strategy. I couldn't help but smirk at the System's sudden enthusiasm for divine murder. The only reason it hadn't suggested this method before was likely because it didn't think I would have the stomach for it having never Fought or killed anything in my life. It assumed I would want to play it safe. But now that I was showing signs of getting impatient with my current development speed, the System saw an opening to push me toward the fastest route available after all as much as I didn't like being weak the System hated having a weak host even more.
It was a fantastic idea. Ripping the stagnant power from forgotten deities to fuel my own rise sounded incredibly satisfying. But I also wasn't stupid. I was still a baby god. Even a weakened Ares or a diminished Hercules could probably tear me in half if I made a single miscalculation.
I sat there in the quiet of the throne room, thinking for a long moment, my mind racing through the dozens of possible variables. "Thank you, System," I finally said, my voice measured. "I will keep your advice in mind. The god-hunting is a solid plan for the future, once I have a bit more baseline strength. But I have a question regarding my Dungeon Worlds. Method three involved faith. Can the inhabitants of my Dungeon Worlds give me power if they pray to me?"
The glowing text froze. For the first time since I had bonded with it, the System genuinely paused.
The silence stretched for several seconds. The Uruk temple seemed to hold its breath. I realized the System wasn't sure itself.
"I am afraid the system does not know the immediate answer to that question," it finally replied, the text scrolling slightly slower than usual. "No Dungeon God before you has ever attempted this or even asked. Give the system a moment to calculate the parameters and retrieve the answer."
I waited, feeling a surge of pride. I had completely understood what the System was implying about faith and agreed with it, but I also recognized the massive loophole in its logic. If I could use the inhabitants of the Dungeon Worlds I created to empower myself, my strength would skyrocket in the short term. The System despised the faith power system because mortals were inherently untrustworthy, but the beings inside my dungeons weren't normal mortals.
A soft chime rang out, and the blue screen expanded rapidly.
"The system is done processing," it announced. "Yes. It is possible to gain strength from the prayers of your Dungeon World inhabitants. However, because these worlds are artificially generated and maintained by your divine energy and the System's help, there are strict rules governing this power transfer."
"Rule one: Only non-active dungeons are able to provide divine energy. Therefore, until the current dungeon is fully cleared by the chosen divers, it is completely useless in this regard. The energy of an active dungeon is locked into maintaining the trials."
''Rule two: All Dungeon Worlds before they can give divine energy must have been used once and to continue using them for divine energy they must be redeployed at least once every hundred years after the Last one.''
"Rule three: The inhabitants must be truly alive and possess free will. Artificial intelligence constructs, such as Etemon, or the beings corrupted by darkness, will never be able to provide anything to you. True faith requires the capacity to choose."
"Rule four: Your Divine Servants, such as the Eternals, cannot give divine energy ever. They are extensions of your own soul. Attempting to draw faith from them would be like trying to drink from an empty cup to quench your own thirst."
I couldn't stop the wide, triumphant grin from spreading across my face. This was exactly what I needed.
As long as I waited until the Young Justice kids were done with the Digimon Dungeon, the Digimon themselves could start providing divine energy. And unlike humans, every single one of those Digimon was already a believer. Ikaris actions had confirmed that today. There were hundreds of thousands of them scattered across File Island and the Server Continent. Once the darkness was purged and the dungeon became inactive, that would be a massive, continuous influx of power into my divine reserves.
And the best part? I completely agreed with the System about the fickleness of human faith. But that logic only applied to humans. You rarely ever heard about non-human followers casually betraying their gods in mythology or fiction. Most of them were ride-or-die loyal when their creators were involved. I had absolute faith that the Digimon wouldn't be a problem anytime soon if ever. They would praise my name, and I would reap the benefits.
Once that battery was established and my power swelled, then I would gather the Eternals and go hunting the Old Gods of the DC universe, just like the System suggested. After all nobody would miss them if they disappeared as most of them only cause problems when they show up anyway.
"Excellent," I murmured, dismissing the blue screens with a wave of my hand. The path forward was clear.
Now that the issue of my power progression was handled, I needed to shift my focus back to my immediate court. I needed to figure out what to give Ikaris for his reward. I knew the Eternal would be deeply grateful if I handed him a literal rock from the ground, given his fanatical programming, but that didn't mean I could be lazy about this. Setting a bad precedent early on would be disastrous. I viewed myself as a just, benevolent, and generous god. I wanted my current and future servants to share that view wholeheartedly. If the rest of the Eternals found out I was stingy with my most devoted and hard-working follower, how would that look?
I needed a second opinion, preferably from someone who understood the social dynamics of the beings I had created. After a brief moment of consideration, I sent out a mental pulse, summoning Ajak and Sersi to the throne room.
Almost immediately, the heavy oak and gold doors at the far end of the hall swung open. Ajak and Sersi hurried in, their expressions a mix of profound awe and overjoyed surprise. Besides Ikaris, who I was constantly working with to manage the mechanics and narrative of the Dungeon, I hadn't interacted with the other Eternals very much since we finished building the first Dungeon. I had left them to their own devices in the residential wings of the Divine Space while they slowly developed their personalities.
They approached the dais and immediately sank to their knees, bowing their heads respectfully. Ajak looked regal and mature, wearing flowing emerald and gold robes, while Sersi possessed a softer, more graceful beauty in her elegant green attire.
"Lord Amir," Ajak said softly, her voice filled with a warm, absolute reverence. "You have summoned us. How may we be of service to you?"
I looked down at them, letting the silence hang for just a moment to emphasize the importance of the meeting. "It is good to see you both. Of all the Eternals I have created, the two of you possess the deepest understanding of empathy and connection. You are the closest to Ikaris emotionally. So, I have called you here to ask your thoughts on a matter of compensation. I wish to grant him a reward for the exemplary work he has done so far. What do you suggest?"
I leaned back, resting my cheek against my knuckles, waiting for their answers.
My question made the two women pause. I could immediately sense the conflicting feelings radiating from them. On one hand, they were genuinely happy for Ikaris. They loved their brother and were thrilled he was receiving so much attention and praise from their Creator. On the other hand, the subtle pangs of jealousy were impossible to miss. It was becoming more and more apparent to the rest of the group that Ikaris was, for now, definitively my favorite. They craved that same validation and closeness.
Sersi looked down at the marble floor, a faint blush dusting her cheeks as she tried to think of an appropriate material reward that Ikaris would like. But Ajak, always the bolder and more spiritually attuned of the two, lifted her chin and met my glowing green eyes. She understood my nature, perhaps better than I had realized when I programmed her from my memories.
"If I may be so bold, Lord Amir," Ajak said, her voice smooth, steady, and entirely serious. "If you truly wish to reward his devotion and grant him the highest honor he could ever comprehend... you could take him on as a concubine."