In the God space of Sunny, a glorious city was taking shape.

Builder, the God of Architecture, led a small, dedicated union of other architect-Gods. It was the same union he created a long time ago, it was called the Builder Union.

They worked relentlessly, their minds ignited by the sheer scale of the project. This was not just any city; it was an utopia, the "City of Gods."

For them, this was the greatest commission of their entire lives, a chance to forge a beginning of a new Era, and they loved every moment of it.

While this city of Gods, a new wonder of the multiverse, was being forged in the Emperor's God space; an existential crisis was unfolding in another.

In Veridia, in the 'Garden of Life'; a pristine, tranquil realm that served as the living space for the demigods of life.

Uranus sat, his angelic, handsome face a mask of confusion and worry for the future.

His first crisis had been solved.

He, Gaia, and Cerberus had worked together to handle the emptiness of the heaven and hell.

The Nine Lives blessing had, in effect, rendered his and Cerberus's primary apostles; the Angels, Valkyries, and Grim Reapers, partially useless when it came to mortals.

But the beasts and monsters still died. By the millions. Every single day across the multiverse even with their nine lives.

Thus with Uranus's urge to handle these beasts, because in the end they were too the creation of the Gods, thus they required an afterlife too.

This solved the problem of empty heaven but created another problem, the number of apostles and the death of the beasts were mismatched, the apostles needed to do work entire months without rest to meet this mismatch.

"What to do, what to do…" Uranus muttered, his gaze fixed on the distant, serene figure of his half sister, Gaia.

She was in her element, completely at peace. She was currently creating.

Sitting in a patch of soft, glowing moss, she was humming a soft tune as she put the finishing touches on a new species, a creature from one of the strange, memories the Gods had given to Thea.

It was a small, rabbit-sized beast, covered in soft, yellow fur, with two bright red circles on its cheeks. It was a creature from an anime called PokeGon.

After a final, delicate touch of her life-giving magic, the creature's eyes snapped open. It saw its creator and giggled, a low-pitched, joyous sound.

It nuzzled her hand, and Gaia began to gently rub the red circles on its cheeks.

ZAPPP!

A sudden, powerful jolt of lightning, far stronger than any natural thunder, erupted from the creature's cheeks, enveloping Gaia in a crackling, yellow aura.

The small beast giggled again, mistaking the electric shock for a fun game.

Gaia, a demigod, merely blinked, unharmed by the playful, C-Grade jolt.

But for Uranus, watching from a distance, that playful spark of lightning was a bolt of pure inspiration.

"Why didn't I think of it?" he whispered, his eyes widening. A brilliant idea, a solution to all his problems, blossomed in his mind.

Just like this rodent knows how to use it's ability to zap and use thunder, just after its creation.

Can't the world's itself knows how to transfer the souls of the dead to the heaven?

"Sister Thea!" he called out, his voice booming with a purpose that could change the cycle of life and death, "I need your help!"

[Ask away, Uranus. I will help you with anything in my power.]

Thea's voice, a calm, melodic, and omniscient presence, echoed from the very air around him.

A cloud of her particles began to converge, swirling and condensing into her familiar, humanoid form, her white shirt and black skirt a stark, a contrast to the vibrant nature of the garden.

"Sister Thea," Uranus said, his words rushing out, "the apostles… the Angels, the Valkyries, the Grim Reapers… they can't keep up. The number of souls from the beasts and monsters is too vast. They spend all their time acting as… as delivery men, reaping souls from billions of worlds. It's inefficient. It's a waste of their power." He took a deep breath.

"Can you create a portal? A new kind of portal? One that automatically… sucks… the souls from dead bodies and teleports them directly to the afterlife?"

Thea's head tilted, her computational mind processing the request. She was silent for a full minute, her consciousness expanding, her hive-mind of particles across the multiverse running countless simulations.

[It is possible]

she finally replied, her voice crisp and analytical.

[A passive, soul-siphoning network. Yes, I can build that. But your premise is flawed. We cannot simply transfer all souls to Heaven]

[What about the hell? We need a buffer. A place where the souls can be judged and sorted, before being sent to their final destination.]

Uranus's mind lit up. "A buffer realm… a realm of judgment! Thea, contact Astraea, the Demigod of Justice! We need her help!"

[Already on it,] Thea replied.

As she spoke, two new portals tore open in the Garden of Life. From one, a wave of cold authority rolled out, followed by the hulking, three headed form of Cerberus.

From the other, a serene, beautiful woman with a blindfold over her eyes, holding a set of perfectly balanced golden scales, stepped through. It was Astraea.

Uranus, his voice now a torrent of creative passion, laid out his grand plan.

Cerberus, his three heads all nodding in agreement, rumbled, "I agree. My Grim Reapers are working tirelessly, their logbooks overflowing. This… this automation… will make their true work of managing the hell far more efficient."

Astraea, who had been silent, her realm of justice largely unused, finally spoke, her voice with a sound of impartial bells. "I am mostly free, as I have had no one to judge since my creation. I would be honored to be the one who weighs these souls. I will create new apostles, Judges of the Dead, to help me in this grand task."

And so, from a simple, playful zap from a yellow, electric rodent, the entire bureaucracy of the afterlife was revolutionized.

The karmic cycle was perfected. Beasts and monsters would die. Thea's new Soul Siphon network would instantly and automatically transport their souls to Astraea's Realm of Judgment.

There, Astraea's new apostles would weigh their simple lives.

The good souls would be sent to Heaven, to be healed and reincarnated by Gaia.

The bad souls would be sent to Hell, to be managed by Cerberus.

But even in Hell, there was a path. The souls, once they had served their time, would be purified by Sugata, the Demigod of Peace, and his apostles, before finally being transported to Heaven for their own chance at rebirth.

Sunny, watching this entire collaboration unfold from his high throne, a collaboration between four of his demigods, smiled.

His children were not just following orders anymore. They were innovating. They were creating. They were building the empire for him.

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