Chapter Text
"Become a history major," They said, "It'll be fun and easy!" They said. They fucking lied to him.
It is 2:54 a.m. Mydeimos the Undefeated Boxing Champion, son of Gorgo, is sitting in front of his laptop with dry eyes and an increasing want to drop out. He reaches for his coffee, black with no sweeteners because he truly has reached a new low in life, and downs it all. Some of it drips down his chin and onto his bare chest. It's cold, but the cold is keeping him awake and this paper is due in a week with it still having to be printed and hardbound so he will do just about anything to keep his eyes open. He's been trying to access an article through the online library but, for some reason, the link doesn't fucking work. What the fuck does he pay 30k credits per term for if the online library doesn't fucking work when he needs it most. He sighs and decides to just visit the actual library when it opens—which is in four hours, more or less. He switches tabs, going back to the document with that annoying cursor blinking at him.
The name 'Irontomb' usually evokes the image of a man with red skin and oryx horns. THEY are associated with a phenomenon called 'the black tide'—a disease that swept over pre-Era Nova Amphoreus and wiped away over half of its population (Herta, 2020). However, before Amphoreus opened its skies to the universe, Irontomb did not exist. THEY are not recorded anywhere in Amphorean history, indicating that Irontomb came to be after Era Nova. This begs the question of where the myth of Irontomb originated from. There is evidence that suggests that Irontomb was an unnamed emanator from the Destruction pantheon that got merged with Phainon—Meaning: White Calamity—the Oryx as an attempt to dissuade Amphoreans from continuing to worship Amphorean deities and instead conform to the Aeons. Anaxagoras (2010, as cited by Ratio, 2023) states that "Irontomb is a complete bastardization of Amphorean culture, twisting what used to be one of its most worshipped deities into an evil and corrupted creature."
Phainon the Oryx, though now forgotten by the majority of Amphoreus Citizens, used to be an integral part of everyday life; this is seen in the oryx statues scattered all over Okhema as well as the tradition of sacrificing an oryx at the start of the year to avoid misfortune. He is the Demigod of Sacrifice and Harvest, among other domains. He is believed to be the son of the Worldbearing titan Kephale (???, add source here) and
Suddenly, Mydei's laptop restarts.
Updating…0%
He can do nothing but stare at his screen in shock. If he were a less repressed man, he'd start crying. He actually might. Fuck his life. Fuck the online library. Fuck this stupid college bullshit. Fuck the IPC too, while he's at it. He should've just joined the military like his parents wanted him to. Mydei groans, burying his head in his hands. Out of pure desperation he says, "Lord Phainon, if you're out there somewhere, I'm sacrificing all of my very expensive flour in exchange for some fucking help. Sorry, I don't have wheat so please take my flour instead."
"Well, I don't know what I'd do with that, but I guess it's the thought that counts."
Startled, he turns around and tries to punch the source of the voice. "How rude! You called for me, you know?" The other man says, catching his fist. Mydei stares at the other man—demigod?—in shock. Well, shock and also because he was…absolutely gorgeous. His hair is white like snow, the golden laurel wreath is weaved into it as if it were actually leaves. His Oryx horns, now associated with evil, only makes him look more radiant, especially with the jewelry wrapped around them. His eyes are blue like the sky, with Kephale's symbol surrounding the pupil. His lips are like cherries, tempting Mydei to bite into them to taste sweetness. "What? Mesmerized by my beauty?" He says in a teasing manner.
It is only then that Mydei remembers himself. He pulls back his fist from the other man's hand—Aeons, they were so soft and smooth—and awkwardly coughs into it. "Um, What- How- I mean, what are you-" Mydei stumbles over his words, his cheeks getting warmer by each failed word. He clears his throat. "What are you doing here?" He asks, grateful that his mouth uttered that instead of 'you're real???' like an idiot.
Phainon raises his brow, his smile widening as if he were about to laugh. Thankfully, he doesn't. "Again, you summoned me, remember?" He floats closer towards Mydei, "So tell me, Mydeimos, are you willing to make your sacrifice?"
Mydei looks at his laptop, which is still updating, and thinks it over. The brand of flour he prefers is expensive, but it's not like he's in need of money. On the other hand, if he can't pass this paper, he'll have to repeat this class. He can earn money back, but he can't do that with time. Plus, absolutely no history major will pass up getting information straight from the source.
"I am," He says, staring directly at Phainon. Phainon nods, "Then so it shall be." Phainon's hands and eyes start to glow. He floats higher, a pair of wings and a halo appear behind him. Mydei squints, the light being too much for his dry eyes. After a while, Phainon returns to what Mydei assumes is his natural state. "I accept your sacrifice."
All of a sudden, Mydei feels incredibly dizzy. "What is happening?" He mutters to himself. "Oops, sorry, I forget that this isn't well known anymore," Phainon grabs his arm before he could fall over and hit his head, "All sacrifices take up energy. This is fine for group sacrifices, but individual sacrifices take energy only from one person, hence the sudden lack of it. You'll have to rest."
"Wait, My paper-" Mydei's vision becomes darker by the second. "Don't worry, I'll handle it." He hears Phainon say—though it sounds muffled to him. He feels himself being placed on his bed, his blanket draped over him. Is Phainon tucking him in???
He tries to fight the drowsiness, stubborn and unyielding. He feels a hand caress his face. It's soft and warm. "Sleep, Mydeimos." He hears Phainon whisper to him, his lips brushing against his ear. Only then does he feel relaxed enough to fall asleep.