Chapter Text
A god’s work is immeasurable. Infinite, really.
When Multi rose above his mortal station after completing the twelve impossible labors given by the Grey Eminence, he truly believed no one was more deserving of divinity. He surpassed humanity, climbing his way into Heaven, reaching a new life no other man could hold a candle to him. The promise of absolute power was akin to a drug; so blinding he never thought twice.
But being a god, Multi quickly discovered, was pretty fucking shitty.
The burdens of godhood fell onto him the exact moment he stepped inside heaven’s realm. One would think that reaching such divine status after enduring hell would mean an eternity free from responsibilities. When his human half burned to ashes during his apotheosis, Multi had genuinely hoped his human emotions had burned away with it.
He was completely wrong.
Gods still experienced love, anger, sadness and, above all else, the one emotion that consumed Multi’s daily existence ever since he ascended:
Irritation.
The fuck do they mean there were ‘Olympian Gods’ sitting above him? Ancient, lazy elites who casually dumped their paperwork onto lower, newly ascended deities. Just the mere existence of "main gods" annoyed Multi to no end.
Even worse, Multi had never been a leader, never been the type to work with people laying out orders, too untrusting of their capabilities. As a mortal scientist, when workers were incompetent, he simply had them executed or replaced. He couldn't do that here; slaughtering holy beings would get him kicked out by the high council in no time.
And the workers? God, the workers.
“Angels”.
They were the bottom of the holy food chain. Initially, the God of Science felt pity for them, but it vanished instantly the moment he realized how annoying they actually were.
Literal minions forming outside his door, looking to become his ‘useful right-hand’.
The first assistant assigned to him was a big angel named Kamil. Kamil seemed to exist solely to test Multi's patience. He pulled childish pranks, sang the same brain-rotting tune at the top of his lungs, and constantly tried to drag Multi out of his work. Eventually, Kamil began inviting other low-ranking angels to his office, running bets on how long it would take for Multi to snap, murder them, and get expelled from Heaven once and for all.
Multi almost gave him his wish, but a formal complaint to the council from a Goddess handled the problem first.
It turned out Kamil wasn't even a true angel.
His name was Ewroon, he was a spy from the Underworld who had personally designed several of the horrific beasts Multi had slain during his mortal trials. He came to avenge the beast the God had slaughtered years ago, Puszek. The Underworld officials also found it fun to drive a new God crazy.
With Ewroon gone, Multi was assigned a replacement secretary.
Now, to be fair, Graf was a massive upgrade from what the other psychopath had been. He was organized, punctual, and highly efficient.
Almost too efficient.
While Graf’s observations were usually spot-on, he had a habit of openly insulting Multi’s research. He constantly compared Multi’s progress to older, more established deities, entirely oblivious to how deeply it wounded Multi's ego. The bearded angel was utterly incapable of reading subtle social cues; whenever Multi attempted to hint that he wanted to be left alone, Graf would simply stand there, making everything painfully awkward. To top it off, Graf set outrageous deadlines for both of them, pushing Multi to the brink whenever the god fell behind schedule, all while casually rambling about wanting to transfer to a more "prestigious" deity’s office; some guy called Juan, also known as ‘Verde’.
The third worker, Nexe, wasn't bad at all.
The angel, or dog, because the guy looked like a literal dog, which was nice. He never overstepped, kept his mouth shut when Multi was working, and moved around the office like a quiet shadow. He was loyal too.
The issue? The guy never fucking showed up to work.
It was crazy, baffling, just insane.
Mountains of low-level clerical paperwork were left abandoned on Nexe's desk, causing the High Council to send Multi increasingly threatening warnings about delays. Multi wasn't about to do an angel's work; that was the entire point of having a worker. So, Multi fired the dog, handed him a divine treat for his trouble, and shooed him out the door.
But the last one… The last one was truly heaven-sent.
Meaning he fell from the sky into Multi’s life and made a mess of his entire godly existence.
It was fate, completely accidental.
"Hello! Are you interested in—?" A small, winged angel peered through the door, holding a clipboard and knocking.
Multi barely looked up from his desk, where paperwork was already threatening to fill his workspace. "Are you the new hire?"
"I mean, I could be—" The angel teased.
"Good. You're hired."
Multi was past the point of caring. There was a limit to how much bad luck one god could endure; at this point, he fully suspected the council was sabotaging him on purpose. Probably threatened by his potential.
His new secretary, Quackity, was an absolute whirlwind.
Most of Multi’s work as a rising god revolved around networking and communication, a nightmare for a man who had spent his mortal life locked inside an isolated nuclear lab. He needed investors: deities, titans, demigods, and archangels willing to fund his scientific advancements.
And Quackity, as it turned out, was remarkably good at making people listen.
Besides that, like all low-tier angels, Quackity had originally been assigned as a Guardian Angel to a human on Earth.
In the hierarchy of the three holy spheres, Guardian Angels occupied the lowest rank. The entire ranking system was dictated by how close a being stood to the absolute Divine, the first sphere being the furthest and the third being the closest, which made Quackity’s arrival in Multi's office almost unbelievable.
Quackity was nothing short of hard-working, but his schedule was a mess. He missed deadlines, vanished for hours at a time, and looked like he hadn't slept in a century. When Multi finally confronted him over his sudden absences, he discovered the truth: Quackity was still secretly descending to Earth to watch over his assigned ward.
The ward was a young avian hybrid. Multi had never cared for Earth's affairs after ascending, years in Heaven were mere hours on the mortal plane anyway. But Quackity cared for him, he tracked the boy's progress, no matter how minor, even though he already knew the hybrid’s divine fate was sealed: a lonely, tragic existence full of betrayal and suffering.
Only powerful, high-ranking gods had the authority to submit requests to the Olympian Council to alter a mortal’s predetermined script.
"I’ll make you a high-ranking god, then." Quackity stated during one of their late-night paperwork sessions.
Multi looked up from his research, amused. "I'm counting on you, then."
From that moment on, an unwritten contract formed between them. Absolute transparency and dedication. The angel threw himself into his administrative work with unstoppable devotion, now with a real objective.
Win-win situation.
Quackity was wildly chaotic, more than anyone Multi had ever met in his mortal or immortal life. At first, Multi worried he had made a terrible mistake by hiring him. The angel was loud, his jokes were utterly inappropriate for a divine setting, and his understanding of boundaries was nonexistent. Yet, just as Multi was preparing to request for another worker, Quackity completely flipped the script.
"I personally don’t have any assets to my name. So this my investment to you." The winged man had said, holding his clipboard against his chest and looking surprisingly professional. "My investment to you is myself. I’m your employee, boss."
Multi had stared at him for a long moment before breathing a laugh through his nose. "Okay?"
Quackity turned out to be a great secretary.
It stunned Multi how effortlessly the angel managed his chaotic schedules, how secretly protective he was of Multi's research to outsiders, and how much information (leverage, really) he managed to get from potential investors.
As Multi's reputation grew, Quackity ascended through the ranks alongside him. Though the promotions meant spending less time on Earth and more time in Heaven, slowly introducing a distance between the realms, his angel adapted. Acting as Multi's Archangel, he spread the God of Science’s name across the mortal plane, gathering followers and building a devout group of believers.
It was their golden era.
Multi’s influence expanded rapidly. Other lower angels, inspired by Quackity's rising status, begged to join Multi, eager for the chance to work on projects that directly impacted the human realm.
Whenever angels asked to join, Quackity repeated Multi's words: "Loyalty is the price."
When Quackity ascended to the rank of Principality, the last choir of the first sphere, he oversaw the construction of massive structures on Earth in Multi’s name. He brought Multi daily updates regarding industrial advancements and young, promising devotees.
Gods across Heaven began to treat Multi with genuine respect, charmed by his charismatic Principality and intimidated by Multi's rapidly growing authority.
Then came Quackity’s next major ascension, his first step outside his past low Sphere. And, also, their very first real fight.
"I don’t want to be a Power," Quackity confessed.
Multi frowned. "I thought you’d be happier? You finally surpassed the lowest sphere."
And maybe, deep down, Multi wanted his secretary to reach the highest rank. Maybe he wanted Quackity to get higher, simultaneously closer to him, tied to his side for all of eternity.
They couldn’t reach a middle ground for months.
Then Quackity eventually yielded to Multi's pressure, accepting the rank. Thankfully, he didn't stay a Power for long. Powers were frequently deployed to the front lines of the Underworld, a duty Quackity despised. Multi hated it just as much, every time he heard reports of fallen angels and demons finding his secretary ‘entertaining’, a dark, ugly possessiveness appeared in his chest.
After a series of requests to the higher-ups, maybe some threats, Quackity bypassed his military duties and was promoted to Virtue.
In his new role, now being able to control natural cycles, Quackity discovered a love for manipulating the weather; his favorite hobby being the creation of ‘rain’
"It’s amazing," Quackity explained, leaning over Multi's shoulder to point at Earth, sitting below them. "It's just pure water falling straight out of the sky."
"Do you think we could make it acid?" Multi asked, absentmindedly, making Quackity frown.
"Hey!" Then, a pause. "Do you think we could spread diseases with this, boss?"
A second later, the two of them shared a grin and immediately got to work.
Decades flew by and centuries melted away.
Quackity was eventually elevated to a Dominion, reaching the highest rank of the Second Sphere. In this position, he commanded all lower ranks, dedicating nearly every hour of his existence to serving Multi and leading the god’s followers.
Multi was no longer a low deity struggling for recognition. His name was fully known in Heaven and Olympus, his followers reached the millions, and his creations made even the oldest Olympian gods sweat. He had gotten powerful allies, imposed his name, and reshaped Heaven itself. His name echoed through the real, almost like a holy chant, like music in his ears.
He was untouchable. Unreachable.
Which was why he was completely unprepared for the day Quackity walked into his office and dropped a document.
At the very top, written in bold, unforgiving letters, were two words:
‘Resignation Letter.’
Multi blinked. "What the fuck."
“Now, let’s not get too emotional about it.”
"What the fuck is this?"
"You know, we've had a truly incredible run, we had a great partnership," Quackity said, placing his hands behind his back. "I'll treasure it forever. I'll probably even tell my kids about you someday!"
"What the fuck are you on about? What the fuck is this?"
"Y'know, I think you should relax—"
"Don't fucking tell me to relax." Multi slammed both hands on his desk, standing up.
"Whoa, okay. Let's not." Quackity said, holding his hands up defensively. " I’ve never spoken to you like that, so you don’t need to be like this."
"What—I know you’ve never— I–I know. But—what is this?!" Multi stammered, nervous, manic laughter slipping through.
"My two weeks' notice. I'm resigning."
The god lets out the only thing he can muster. “Why?”
"Well, there are a lot of reasons, you know—"
"No! I don't know! I don’t fucking know!" Multi shouted, cutting him off. "Why?! Why do you want to resign?!"
Quackity shifted uncomfortably, his eyes awkwardly glazing to the side, meeting the wall where a framed ‘Employee of the Month’ award hung, a joke portrait Quackity had forced Multi to put up centuries ago after their first big scientific advancement. Quackity quickly winced as he looked away.
"Is it the pay?" Multi blurted out, desperate.
Quackity let out a laugh. "No, boss, it's not the pay. This is Heaven. I could literally live as a freeloader in Tina or Foolish's domain, and they'd happily take care of me until the end of time. Underworld or Heaven."
"So what is it?" Multi spouts, interrupting his worker.
“Boss…”
“I just... I don't—”
"Boss."
"—understand why you would—"
"Multi."
The deity finally stops stammering, probably pouting as he bites his lip bitterly, letting the angel continue.
"You're gonna be okay," Quackity assured him, his voice softening into a quiet, genuine warmth. "I'll make sure of it."
A silence filled the room as his secretary waited patiently while his god struggled to find his words.
"Why?" Multi whispered again, full of confusion.
Quackity sighed softly. "I don't want to ascend to the First Sphere."
The First Sphere. The absolute highest rank for celestial beings that weren’t Gods. The First Sphere encased three ranks of ‘beings’ so close to godhood that their individual identity dissolved into cosmic reality. It began with the Thrones, Quackity’s next ascension.
"What?" Multi questioned, frowning.
"If I keep working, I will be demanded to ascend to the next rank," Quackity explained flatly. "And I don’t want to."
"Why? It would mean you’d be closer to me–!"
An angel's ultimate goal was to merge themselves with the god they served and worshiped, to achieve a closeness so grand that their existences were permanently intertwined.
Quackity pulled a face, looking disgusted. "It's ugly."
Multi blinked. "What?"
The angel rolled his eyes, repeating himself slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "It's ugly. I am not becoming a Throne. I am not becoming a Cherubim, and I am sure as hell not becoming a Seraphim."
Multi stared at him, suddenly remembering that Quackity was, above all else, extremely vain.
The angel spent hours preening his wings every morning, delaying meetings just to ensure not a single feather was out of place. His white uniforms pristine and proper, and he had wars with his hair to keep it looking presentable. He adored his angelic appearance.
So the prospect of surrendering his humanoid form to become a literal wheel intersecting another wheel, all four rims full of eyes, or an abstract entity with four faces of different animals, was an obvious dealbreaker.
"Do you know Cherubs literally have to say 'be not afraid' every time they appear in front of humans?" Quackity paced back and forth across the office, waving his hands animatedly. "Like that’s a rule, dude. That’s how fucking ugly they are. And scary! And I don’t like to be yelled at.”
The god just hears his rambling, feeling like he’s having a fever dream.
“They have eyes everywhere, Multi. And by everywhere, I mean everywhere. Where even is their torso supposed to be?! I am not turning into a wheel of eyes. I'm just– I’m not."
Multi buried his face in his hands, feeling entirely played. "Are you insane?"
"Wait, there's another reason," Quackity said, stopping mid-pacing. He fidgeted with his fingers, a sudden, rare flicker of nervousness crossing his features. "I think... I think I want a family. A real one. I want to have kids, and I want to settle down with someone.”
Multi just stares, stupefied.
“It's not weird. Most lower angels do it all the time. We're allowed to form personal connections on Earth now—the Higher Power has allowed us to do so centuries ago."
Multi stood frozen as Quackity looked up, his expression painfully vulnerable.
"I love my job, Multi. I really do," Quackity confessed quietly. "But I think it's taking a toll on me. Ever since we started this journey– My entire life revolves around you."
Multi’s breath hitched. A faint, gentle smile began to form on the God’s lips, a sudden wave of relief hitting him.
He knew what Quackity meant; he felt the same.
They don’t need a rank to prove they’re intertwined. They could fix this. He could grant Quackity time off; he could write to the Higher—
"And I want my life to revolve around someone I love." Quackity finished.
The relief disappeared instantly.
A knot formed in Multi's throat, choking the air right out of him.
"Please don't take this the wrong way," Quackity rushed to add, noticing the sudden deathly pale shift in Multi's complexion. "Don’t get me wrong, please. I’ve already talked to the higher-ups; I’ll personally look for my replacement. I promise that I won’t leave until I find the perfect one."
Multi felt physically sick. The realization that there were still forces higher than him annoyed him endlessly.
"It's going to be fine, I’m sure it’ll be easy," Quackity said gently, offering a warm wobbly smile that didn't look quite right. "Everyone in Heaven wants to work for you now. They'd die for your cause. You’re already established as a deity, it’s not like old times.”
Multi didn't hear a word of it. His vision narrowed down to the notice sitting on his desk, specifically the signature at the very bottom.
“You’re a God, Multi. You’ll be fine without me." Quackity smiles, but it doesn't truly reach his brown eyes.
Not like the God notices.
He’s lost in thought, remembering the day Quackity signed his very first research papers. The angel didn’t know how to write a signature yet, and he proudly declared he would always sign Multi's documents using bright green ink to honor his God.
This signature was written in jet-black ink, soulless and crushing.