Divine Celebrity 12 (Patreon)

After Thad dragged me toward the defensive team, bringing me face to face with the coach, the moment was almost anti-climatic. “I found you a good backup lineman, coach,” Thad said enthusiastically, just loud enough to earn a few glances from the other players. 

The old coach gave me a stern look, and I forced myself to catch his gaze. 

The coach was an old man, almost in his seventies, though that didn’t take away the threatening glint in his eyes. 

Dangerous man. 

“Why?” he asked, trying to sound dismissive, though the glint in his eyes didn’t disappear. 

“Nice defender, vicious,” Thad explained. “Also, he managed to intercept or block two-thirds of the passes as we practice. We can use that mentality in our team.” 

“I don’t need flashy wannabes,” the coach said, looking at me like he expected me to defend myself. I stayed silent, smart enough to realize any attempt to talk back would work against my benefit. The coach was clearly old-school, and talking back to him wasn’t the smartest. 

My silence earned a nod. 

“I’ll think about it if he can manage to stick until the end of the training,” the coach grumbled before he turned and started working on his papers, like he hadn’t already discussed that with Thad earlier. But, considering the gazes of the other players, they clearly had a reason for their little play. 

Then, he left, leaving me smirking despite the bone-weary exhaustion. 

*****

The rest of the training passed monotonously despite its exhaustion, more about simple repetition than complicated tactics, a good day to join. 

And as I finally drove away from the stadium — much later than everyone else because after the shower, I had to spend another hour in the office of one of the coordinators, giving all my information, allowing them to process my preliminary admission to the team, pending a long meeting with one of the conditioning coaches to give the last stamp of approval — I had a huge smile on my face.  

The day was much more amazing than I could ever realistically hoped for, which, admittedly, I owed a lot to my Heroic Traits. The baggage they came together with might have been annoying, but their usefulness was hard to doubt. 

Unfortunately, the sudden stretch of good luck I had enjoyed had clearly annoyed the fate, who decided to strike by one of her usual methods. A thick layer of smoke, bursting free from the hood of my car.

My horribly old car. 

“Perfect timing,” I growled as I opened the door. My guide floated out from the passenger seat, looking at the smoke curiously. 

“What happened, something with the enchantments of the carriage?” 

“Something like that,” I murmured, not in the mood to explain to her the intricacies of mechanical engineering, or the way technology worked inherently. I might have prioritized it if she had the ability to touch anything, but since she was incorporeal, there was no risk of her accidentally burning the room by misusing the toaster. 

As I examined the smoking engine of my car, my guide continued her pointless chatter. “It was nice that you managed to get a place in the team,” she said gleefully. “That stadium is huge. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of attention, maybe enough Intent to start giving you some proper level of heroic traits.” 

I wanted to examine the engine more carefully, but her offhand comment somehow managed to steal my attention despite the spreading dark smoke. “What exactly do you mean by proper strength?” I couldn’t help but ask. 

“You know, enough to achieve some elemental tasks, like little Heracles,” she said. “Mortals seemed to be impressed with his feats of strength enough that his ascend to the demigod status went smoothly.” 

I was so glad that I asked, even as I reflexively hid my face in my palms, trying to suppress a frustrated cry. Maybe I should try to explain to her that if I suddenly displayed that level of strength, the only thing I would earn was an endless stay in the lab, to disappear forever.

Interestingly, however, her distaste toward Zeus didn’t extend to his children, even the male ones. Though, if the mythology was even remotely accurate about his womanizing ways, hating his children would have been an exhausting affair.  

Too bad that she had given me no indication that she would handle a serious conversation yet. “I thought the System assigns the traits automatically, based on the activity and the impression?” I asked instead. 

“Yes, but the amount of Intent changes the magnitude of the Traits,” she said. “So, with little Intent, like the amount you gained from the tournament, it was barely enough to give you some mental improvements. Barely enough to count as an improvement. If we gather more, you’ll be able to have some proper Traits, like strength or agility. Maybe even develop an Incantation if the audience is adequately impressed.” 

“Can you trigger them earlier? Maybe every day, before it accumulates too much?” 

“I can, but why?” she asked. 

It was time for a little trickery. “I was always been a big fan of Athena, especially her impeccable discipline and mental strength, so I want to be like her. If I gain too many physical Traits first, I’m afraid I would turn up like … Ares.” I remembered her referring to Athena on good terms. 

“Yes, Ares,” she murmured, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “He is a good boy, but a little too loud to hang around, not to mention too rash. You should take Athena as a role model. She’s the best,” she said with a nod. 

I just nodded, letting out a relaxed breath. Talking with her was a tense affair, and her outward charm made it even more difficult. She was like a cute teddy bear with a suspicious clock inside, ticking suspiciously. And I couldn’t even check it properly, afraid of it exploding. 

Once again ignoring the mostly-invisible cutie dressed as a dominatrix next to me, I turned my attention on the engine of my pitiful old car. It certainly earned its retirement a long time ago, but I had been keeping it alive through repeated interventions that defied nature. 

As I examined it — which swallowed almost a quarter of an hour — I came to two conclusions. First, thankfully, not only the problem was fixable, but I could fix it myself. Second, it was a tedious problem that required disassembling a serious portion of the engine. 

A couple of hours of work at a minimum, likely half a day. 

With a sigh, I slammed the hood close and grabbed my duffel bag. I had a long walk ahead of me, especially if I wanted to arrive at the party at the team house.  

Pity I had no friends close enough to ask for a ride, and I hated owing favors, even trivial ones, to acquaintances. 

“Can’t you fix it?” my guide asked. “Maybe I should teach you some magic to help?” 

I ignored her suggestion. My life was fucking confusing enough before adding magic into the mix. Even if she could teach me — and at this point,  unfortunately, magic was not something I could simply write off as superstitious nonsense — with the memory troubles she was having, she was hardly the ideal tutor for even basic arithmetic, let alone magic. 

If magic was a simple thing to cast, the myths — a concept that taking seriously was logical under the circumstances — wouldn’t be filled with stories of spells going terribly wrong. 

Before I could even walk a hundred feet away, however, a car stopped next to me. 

“Car problems?” asked a cute voice, and when I looked at the driver’s seat, I saw a familiar face, driving a red convertible, though I failed to recognize her immediately. 

“I decided to enjoy a walk through this amazing view,” I said, gesturing the great empty field between the main campus and the stadium even as I examined the blonde girl, trying to remember where I had seen her. 

Then, it clicked. 

She was the girl at the entrance of the convention center, accompanying our dear backup quarterback as he egged the tournament. 

A frown appeared on her face. She clearly didn’t appreciate my flippant response, rightfully so. If I were her, I would have already continued to drive. Luckily, she proved herself a better person than me — despite her passive assistance to a certain asshole as he committed an act of vandalism, treating it as the peak of the wit — not that it was a huge achievement in the first place and asked, “Do you need a ride?” 

“Unfortunately, I do,” I said, gesturing to the smoke still coming out of the hood. “I would appreciate it, especially since I’m in a hurry.” 

“Do you want to wait for the road assistance to arrive before leaving?” she asked. “In case someone tries to steal…” she said, but fading halfway as she registered just how much of a junk it was. To her credit, she didn’t say it explicitly.  

“Yeah, burglars have better things to do than doing me a favor,” I said with a chuckle as I threw my bag into the backseat. 

“What a nice young woman,” my guide said cheerfully as she slid back to the backseat, next to my bag. I didn’t answer her, not wanting my gracious helper to think that I was crazy.