Allen1996
patreon
Rage against the heavens: chapter 2
🕑 Added 2024-11-29 01:47:00 +0000 UTCMaybe it was the relief of finally spilling everything, maybe sheer exhaustion, or maybe something deeper—some intangible weight lifted, leaving her body with nothing but fatigue—but Beryl had fallen asleep. The rise and fall of her chest was steady, her face slack in a way I hadn’t seen in years. As I removed her heels, setting them gently on the floor, and tucked her under the blankets, I was struck by how much she reminded me of the sister I used to know. Not the fractured image she had become.
Her hair, once styled to perfection, now lay messy across the pillow, strands clinging to the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her makeup was smudged, remnants of mascara tracing faint rivers down her cheeks. She looked vulnerable. Mortal.
I didn’t lie to myself. I still had lingering, tangled feelings about her. Mixed wouldn’t even begin to describe it. Resentment? Maybe. Regret? Absolutely. Bitterness? That too. Intellectually, I understood—none of this was her fault. Ninety-nine percent of it wasn’t, at least. Zeus wasn’t some pushy human suitor whose advances could be brushed off with a sharp word or a slammed door. He was a god, a creature woven from pride and power, who would burn an entire city to ash if he thought it mocked him, who had probably done much worse in the past. Refusing him wasn’t an option, not for her, not for even most goddesses, not for anyone mortal.
And yet... the other one percent lingered like a thorn under my skin. My emotions didn’t care about logic. They only remembered how she’d shut me out, how I’d picked up the pieces she dropped, how I’d watched her wither into something unrecognizable. They whispered that she could’ve, should have tried harder, listened to me when I begged her to walk away. They whispered that her choices, no matter how constrained, had ripped us apart.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’ll get over it , probably, hopefully, I thought, glancing back at her sleeping form. Maybe before she even woke up. There were bigger concerns now, concerns that made sibling grievances feel like dust in a hurricane.
My worries were focused on something else much more important, ironically primordial: the gods and monsters that walked this world.
The knowledge I’d scraped together after unlocking my tinkering abilities had been... Let's say enlightening and in this moment, two immediate goals burned in my mind. Things I needed to do. Things I needed to build. Those thoughts were the ones who brought me here, standing in a convenience store at four in the morning, buying things I never thought I’d be touching in either my first life or my second.
The cashier—an older man with thinning hair and a drooping face—looked more preoccupied with staying awake than paying attention to what I was buying. Thank God, not those gods for small mercies. Anyways, he hadn’t asked a single question as I loaded batteries, jumper cables, disposable cameras, duct tape, aluminum foil, and a mismatched assortment of other items onto the counter. All the ingredients that should seem to be for a very strange, very dangerous science experiment or maybe something worse.
This neighborhood—the kind of place where wealth was passed down like family heirlooms—was a world of calm and control. The sort of gated community that wasn’t technically gated but might as well have been. It wasn’t a place where people worried about muggings or robberies; crime was a thing that happened to other people, on other streets. The residents of these mansions and manicured lawns paid for security, paid for peace, paid to keep the chaos of the world at bay.
I wondered how they would reach if they knew that this peace was an illusion, that Chaos was everywhere, hiding under masks of normalcy, waiting for the right moment to strike, that at any moment because of the will of a god or a monster, everything could go wrong and nothing they could try to do would change that. I wondered how they would react if they knew that monsters weren’t metaphors, that they were real, literally amongst us being hidden by the mist.
Honestly, another reason to build something as quickly as possible. The early ’90s weren’t kind to night owls like me. This wasn’t the future, where you could order anything with a few clicks and have it delivered in minutes. Honestly, kinda one of the things I truly missed the most about my first life was the convenience of it all. Most stores were closed, especially in a place like this. Electronics shops, hardware stores, specialty suppliers—all of them locked up tight. If I hadn’t stumbled across Eta Construction, a store that was a bizarre hybrid of hardware, automotive, and electronics, I’d be out of luck.
It was almost suspicious how convenient it was. The kind of store where you could find copper wires, batteries, quantum resonators, and even small tools , all under one roof. Almost like someone knew what people like me might need and it kinda ranked up my paranoid a little but still, I knew hadn’t had the luxury to hesitate.
In the end, I paid the cashier $3,150, sliding a credit card across the counter with a practiced indifference. He handed it back to me with the kind of detached politeness that felt rehearsed.
“Thank you for your purchase at Eta Construction,” he said, his voice monotone, as I began stuffing my haul into bags.
For a moment, my hands froze as his words rang into my mind, as something clicked. Eta Construction. The name felt wrong, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. My gaze flicked to the cashier, and for the briefest instant, something changed.
His skin shimmered, metallic and gleaming like polished bronze. His eyes—God, his eyes—darkened into empty voids, pupils replaced by burning orange orbs that looked like molten lava. The image was gone in a blink, leaving only the tired man behind the counter, his features unremarkable once more.
“Is everything alright, sir?” he asked, his tone so normal it felt mocking.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile that I hoped didn’t look as fake as it felt. My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept my voice steady. “Just tired. Probably should be sleeping instead of shopping. Heading home for that now.”
“Understood, sir. Have a nice night,” he said, with no hint of suspicion.
I nodded, picking up my bags and walking as calmly as I could manage toward the exit. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I forced my legs to move at a measured pace. The second I was out the door and into the parking lot, my composure cracked. My steps quickened, the bags swinging wildly at my sides, until I reached the sanctuary of my car.
The second the door slammed shut behind me, I dropped the bags onto the passenger seat and leaned my forehead against the steering wheel. My breaths came fast and shallow, each one burning in my chest like I’d been sprinting.
“Eta Construction. Really? Could they be more obvious?”
It clicked into place now, the name, the store, the cashier—or whatever the hell that thing was. Before tonight, before knowing I’d been reincarnated into a world where Greek gods roamed, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But now? Eta could be said to be the Greek letter equivalent of H the same way Alpha was for.
Of course, the store called Eta construction with too many things, opened 24/7 in one of the richest neighbourhood in America was owned by Hephaestus, the god of the forge. The Olympian craftsman.
It was so blatant it felt like a bad joke and that cashier? An automaton, maybe, or some other mythological creature cloaked so thickly in the Mist that I’d almost missed it.
Almost. I probably would have if I wasn’t aware now that the supernatural indeed existed in this world.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? I’d been face-to-face with something inhuman, something that could have crushed me or worse without breaking a sweat, and I’d been powerless if anything had gone wrong, if for any reason, the automaton or whatever that thing wanted to. Sure, my abilities let me build things, create weapons, craft tools that could level the playing field. But tools were useless if you didn’t have time to make them. What good was ingenuity when you were caught empty-handed?
I needed an edge. ASAP!.
With that thought, I started the car, the engine growling to life beneath me. The faint vibrations against my hands felt grounding, a reminder that, for now, I was still alive, that things were alright but this wasn’t, didn't feel enough like maybe it once did in the past. Not anymore.
I glanced at the bags in the passenger seat, the jumble of components that would soon become something far more dangerous. And as I pulled out of the lot, words echoed in my mind: I guess I'll just have to Build, or die.
*scene*
The encounter at the store had been proof enough: I needed to start building right now. Not in a few hours, not after catching some rest, but this very instant. I couldn’t shake the image of the cashier—his metallic skin shimmering like molten steel, the volcanic glow in his eyes—and I didn’t want to. Fear had a way of sharpening the mind, and tonight, I intended to wield mine like a scalpel. There was no way I’d sleep without creating something, anything, to ease the gnawing paranoia that had taken root in my chest.
I wasn’t deluded enough to think I’d suddenly craft something capable of obliterating a god. With one charge in anti-divine weaponry, my knowledge barely skimmed the surface of what such a feat would require. Even against a minor god, I’d be an ant trying to jab a needle into the boot about to crush me. But monsters? That was another story. The thought lit a small fire in me. Monsters were way more tangible, fallible, killable than gods and the capacity of possibly dealing with them was one I could not pass on. Sure, Zeus was my real target but I knew the roads would be paved with a lot of bullshit and if I couldn’t deal with the bare minimum from monsters and gods, what was the point?
The living room had turned unrecognizable. A sprawling battlefield of tools, wires, and random scraps of material spread across the once-pristine carpet and coffee table. Bits of quartz and aluminum glinted under the harsh glow of the overhead light. The scent of adhesive and faintly burnt plastic hung in the air, sharp and acrid. It looked chaotic, but everything had its purpose, a piece in the intricate puzzle I was assembling. The knowledge that had burned itself into my soul hours again ensured I knew this.
Three projects. That was the goal. Three tools I deemed essential in the wake of what Beryl had revealed to me. The first and most important was concealment. If the gods—or worse, the monsters—could track us through our scent or whatever mystic sixth sense they used, then we were already dead. This wasn’t just about me; it was about Beryl too. The idea of Zeus coming near her again made my blood boil. And Hera? Sure, in canon, it was said if I remember well that Beryl died because of a car crash due to driving intoxicated. That was a fate I would not allow to come to pass and if the Moirai were not happy about that, they could fight me over it. Still, better to not tempt the devil and all of that. Did I even need to justify why we couldn’t afford to be found?
The plan was to miniaturize a greater ritual into something portable, wearable, and discreet. I didn’t fully understand the original design—it was like staring at a complex equation missing half its variables—but I had enough knowledge to work with. Earrings for Beryl, a chain for me. Both would need to sit close to the skin to function, and both would have to hold up under scrutiny if anyone looked too closely.
I spread out the materials I had gathered from the store earlier. Batteries, quartz crystals salvaged from wristwatches, copper wire, aluminum foil, duct tape, epoxy, titanium jewelry, piezoelectric crystals, moonstone, and obsidian. Each item felt like a tiny lifeline, a stepping stone away from helplessness.
The first step for both accessories was the creation of metamaterials, artificial substances engineered to manipulate electromagnetic waves in ways nature never could. According to the knowledge that had been etched into my mind, these materials would bend light and disrupt detection systems, cloaking our presence from prying senses. Maybe it sounded overkill, but in a world where divine wrath and monstrous appetite were literal threats, overkill was the only kind of kill that mattered.
I started by cutting the aluminum foil into thin, precise strips, no wider than a thread. Each strip was paired with a matching piece of plastic sheeting, and I alternated the layers like a miniature lasagna, bonding them together with superglue. Conductive, non-conductive, conductive, non-conductive—every layer had a role to play. My hands moved with steady precision, the repetitive process almost meditative.
Once I had enough composite material, I brought out a magnifying glass and a fine-point needle. This was the tedious part: engraving nano-scale patterns into the aluminum surface. Spirals, zigzags, interlocking loops—their complexity wasn’t just for show. Each line guided electromagnetic waves, bending them around the object to render it invisible or scattering signals to confuse detection systems. The knowledge behind these patterns felt instinctive, a gift from the charge I had spent. I probably would have not been able to do anything of what I was actually doing if it was not for the star of Knowledge in my mind. I also was kinda sure that I was kinda cheating in a way, that even with my knowledge, I shouldn’t have been this fast or able to build with such a simple environment and materials. Yeah, Without that star of knowledge, I’d probably be lost.
When the etching was done, I placed the layered sheets into a toaster oven repurposed for this task. Low heat, just enough to cure the glue and stabilize the structure without warping it. The smell of heated plastic filled the air, faint but sharp. I watched the timer tick down, the seconds dragging like hours.
Once the sheets had cooled, I tested them with a laser pointer. The beam bent unnaturally as it passed over the material, refracting in unpredictable ways. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough I hoped. The first step was complete.
The second feature, and arguably just as important, was the quantum resonators. These would emit randomized noise at a subatomic level, scrambling the signals gods and monsters used to track their prey. If metamaterials were the cloak, resonators were the smokescreen.
I started by dismantling the cheap wristwatches I had bought, carefully extracting the piezoelectric crystals inside. These tiny fragments had the remarkable ability to generate electrical charges when stressed—ideal for creating quantum-level interference. Using copper wire, I connected each crystal to a salvaged capacitor from disposable cameras. The capacitors would store the electrical charge, releasing it in irregular bursts to generate the interference patterns I needed.
Programming the noise pattern was a delicate process. With a few resistors, I adjusted the discharge rate of the capacitors, ensuring the bursts were irregular enough to mimic the randomness of quantum phenomena. The result was a constantly shifting field of noise, like static in a radio signal, but on a scale no mortal device could detect.
I encased each resonator in a small plastic shell for protection, then tested them by placing them near a makeshift detection ward I had hastily scrawled earlier. The ward failed to react.
Perfect.
With the key components ready, I moved on to assembling the final accessories. The titanium earrings were cleaned and buffed, their surfaces prepped for adhesion. I cut small pieces of the metamaterial and affixed them to the earrings with conductive adhesive, ensuring full coverage. The resonators were attached to the backs, their wiring carefully insulated and sealed with epoxy. For a finishing touch, I engraved the earrings with runes in a language I didn't understand at all but that I knew deep down were some kind of concealment runes, filling the engravings with a mixture of moonstone dust and adhesive.
The chain required a slightly different approach. I sprayed each link with a liquid metamaterial solution, ensuring even coverage. The chain was then heated with a butane torch to cure the spray, the metal glowing faintly under the flame. The resonator for the chain was larger, a triple-crystal array housed in the clasp. Like the earrings, the chain was engraved with runes and infused with obsidian powder to amplify its properties.
As I worked, the living room seemed to blur around me, the tools and materials fading into the background. My focus narrowed to the task at hand, each movement deliberate and precise. It wasn’t just about building tools; in a way it was kinda about reclaiming control.
By the time I finished, the first light of dawn was creeping through the windows, painting the room in shades of pale gold and gray. On the coffee table sat the fruits of my labor: a pair of titanium earrings and a sleek, unassuming chain. They looked ordinary, almost mundane, but I knew better. These weren’t just accessories; they were shields, lifelines, things I knew could possibly be the beginning of everything changing. Those things were for Beryl and me but I knew I could build something similar for Thalia, something that would make sure she would not have to go through the same things as her canon self. This was something that could make all demigods have a more normal life instead of being forced, forever dragged, unable to escape the world hidden behind the mist.
I leaned back in the chair, exhaustion tugging at the edges of my mind. There was still testing to be done, calibration to ensure everything worked as intended. But for now, I allowed myself a moment of quiet satisfaction. The gods might continue their fuckeries for now, the monsters could continue prowling. They would not be able to involve my sister or me tonight.
Honestly, it felt as if I went through five straight hours of college-level math classes without a break and if you already went through this modern torture, you must understand kinda how bone-deep tired I felt. My brain felt fried, like someone had run it through a cheese grater. Every thought came sluggishly, as though I were trying to drag it through thick mud.
“That sucks,” I whispered to myself, the sound barely audible over the mess of tools and parts scattered around me. “I didn’t even start on the other two projects, and I’m already spent.”
The weight of the night pressed against me like a physical force. My fingers itched to keep going, to finish everything I had planned, but the mental fog rolling in was undeniable. I needed a moment.
Yeah, just a moment and I'll go back to tinkering.
The sound of soft footsteps pulled me from my haze. They were light but deliberate, with just enough hesitation to make me think twice. My eyes narrowed toward the living room doorway as a familiar voice broke the silence.
“You look like you barely crawled out of hell, Alex.”
I turned my head slightly, catching sight of Beryl standing in the doorway. Her hair was still a disheveled mess, and there were faint shadows under her eyes, but she looked... better. Marginally. If I squinted. At least now, she resembled someone nursing a hangover instead of someone who had hit absolute rock bottom and kept digging.
“Yeah,” I muttered, my voice flat. “Your words feel accurate.”
She stepped closer, rubbing her arms like she was trying to keep the last remnants of her shame at bay. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice tinged with guilt. “It’s probably because of me. I was the one who woke you up so early, and I’m the one who’s been hogging your bed.”
Her words carried an undercurrent of something else—worry, maybe even self-loathing. I sighed, forcing a weak smile onto my face. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who decided to put you in my bed. Besides, I could’ve slept on the couch or anywhere else in the apartment if I really wanted to. The reason I look like I crawled out of hell is because I spent the night tinkering.”
“Tinkering?” she repeated, tilting her head. “What do you mean by that?”
Instead of answering, I grabbed the small pair of earrings from the table and tossed them her way. “Catch,” I said.
Her hands darted out, fumbling slightly, but the lack of a clattering sound meant she had caught them. “You made these?” she asked, her tone almost disbelieving. “They’re beautiful.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I said with a shrug. “I’ll take the compliment. Anyway, they’re yours. Made them for you. They’re the reason I didn’t sleep.”
“For me?” she asked, her voice tinged with something between gratitude and guilt. “Alex, I—thank you. But you didn’t have to stay awake all night making something for me. I’m not even sure I deserve them. Not after everything.”
Her words hit like a dull knife, and I sighed again, turning to look at her. “They weren’t made just to look pretty, Beryl. They’re designed to block gods or monsters from being able to track your... presence, I guess. Your scent, your aura—whatever they call it, whatever it is they use to find people. Of course, you shouldn’t go tempting fate or anything, but with these, you should theoretically be under their radar for a long time.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in shock. “How?” she stammered. “Did you know about all this before I told you?”
“Not even a little,” I admitted, leaning back in my chair. “I probably would’ve done a lot of things differently if I had. But earlier, when you told me everything... something in my brain just clicked I guess. Now, I can build... well, amateur-level anti-divine stuff, you could say.”
Her hand tightened around the earrings, and I could see the emotion welling in her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “How can you still try to help me after... after everything I’ve done? After how many times I let you down?”
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. “Angry? Really, truly, mom and dad angry? Maybe I’ll feel that way later. But right now, I’m too tired and too worried to care about anything else. Besides, it’s not like this is entirely your fault. Lance was a god.”
“It doesn’t matter, Alex!” she snapped, tears starting to pool in her eyes. “It was still my fault. From the very beginning, when I first started seeing Lance, you told me over and over that it wasn’t a good idea. You told me you didn’t trust him, and I knew deep down that you were right, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t listen because I was greedy, because I wanted immortality, because I wanted to be on top of the world.”
Her voice cracked as she continued. “I focused on what could’ve been. I hurt you. I neglected Thalia. Even when things were hazy, it was all because of me. I let him manipulate me, warp my mind into something I barely recognized. And worst of all, you—you weren’t even a teenager yet, and you were taking care of Thalia like she was your responsibility instead of mine. A baby taking care of another baby, because I was too much of a screw-up to do it myself. I’m not a good person, Alex. I’m not even close.”
Tears spilled freely down her face, and she didn’t bother wiping them away. Her shoulders shook with the weight of her guilt, and for a moment, I just stared at her, my chest tight with emotions I didn’t entirely understand.
“You’re being way too hard on yourself,” I said finally, my voice steady but soft. “Yeah, there are things I wish had gone differently. But honestly? You’re not the monster you think you are. You believed—truly believed—that what you were doing was for our greater good. Sure, you made mistakes, but who hasn’t? And even if you were a monster... you’re still my big sister. That doesn’t change for me.”
She looked at me like I’d just said the most unbelievable thing in the world.
“If that’s not enough for you,” I added, “then prove it. Become better. Be better—not just for yourself, but for Thalia and Jason. Be someone they can look up to. Someone who’ll make those gods jealous, not just of your strength, but of your ability to rise above them.”
I smiled then, a small, tired smile that I hoped carried some of the conviction I felt. “We don’t need gods to reach the top, Beryl. We can do it ourselves. Now, would you please put those earrings on? It’d really suck if I spent three and a half hours making them for nothing.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her tears slowing, before finally nodding. She slipped the earrings on, her hands trembling slightly as she did. The titanium glinted in the dim light, the engravings catching and refracting the glow in a way that made them seem almost alive. The inlaid moonstone gave off a faint, ethereal shimmer, while the obsidian details seemed to drink in the light, grounding the design in a quiet, understated elegance.
“Thanks, Alex,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smiled again, this time with a bit more strength. “Don’t mention it.”
She hesitated, then said, “You’ve got a plan, don’t you? A plan for dealing with Lance. With... them.”
I shrugged. “The bare bones of one.”
“Whatever it is,” she said, her voice gaining a steely edge, “I want in. I want to make him pay, Alex. I know your plans are probably going to be... exceptional.”
Her words made me think about something. A seed of an idea began to bloom in my mind “Do you know a Tristan Mclean?” I asked her.
I watch her begin to think, her eyes going hazy as if she was trying to remember something. After a moment, she spoke “I think I heard that name. Barely a B+ TV show and movie star but he's raising pretty fast. Why?”
I looked at her, my smile turning just a little sharper. “Hey, sis, what do you think about completely overturning the concept of Fate?”
Comments
Austin
Love the story so far
Sefa Baah
Thanks for the chapter. But wat did the Mc get with his inspired inventor?
