《Extradimensional Tax Evasion》 Prologue ¡°And thus, we decree unto thee the responsibility for bringing forth a hero to the world of ¦®.¦£.149 version b, more commonly known as Corsica,¡± resounded the voice of the Subcommittee¡¯s High Councilor, Velrasa. Being a god of songs, speeches, and formality, Velrasa¡¯s meeting took nearly a mortal month of echoes resounding and demi-choirs proclaiming until the meeting could move forward again in earnest. The prophets of the multiverse would surely be waking up with headaches for years with visions of this farce, doubtlessly trying in vain to divine the meaning of the shrill bureaucracy before them. Thankfully, the next party to speak would be far more curt. ¡°I accept,¡± announced the goddess, and the meeting had ended. The demi-choirs, rife with angels, demi-gods, demons, and even the occasional minor deity, were scattered to the winds of the realms from which they came, leaving only the committee and its subject remaining. ¡°Minervica, can I trust you will succeed?¡± Velrasa asked, a familiar air of disapproval settling onto him in the relative solitude. ¡°Of course, my lord. I have never failed you before, and I never will,¡± she uttered with controlled calm. ¡°Very well. Begone.¡± Without a word more, Minervica, Daughter of Athena, the Goddess of Language, Literature, and Trade, She Who Placates Heaven and Earth, retreated back to her realm of stewardship. ********* It was nothing special, my accident. An ordinary work accident, the kind that happens everyday across the world, that is what did it. It was far from spectacular, but it shouldn¡¯t be shameful or embarrassing either. That¡¯s what I keep telling myself. ¡°Are you ready to share, stranger?¡± a patient voice asked. I hadn¡¯t been counting, but this had to be at least the dozenth time. I decided I couldn¡¯t lurk anymore without things getting awkward. Other people had gone longer without sharing, but I didn¡¯t want to be one of them. Better to get it over with already. ¡°Hello Limbo-mates, I¡¯m Gregory Falci and I am dead.¡± A chorus of ¡°Hi Gregory¡± with at least half of the participants calling me ¡°Greg¡± rang out. If I had wanted my name shortened, I¡¯d have said so, but whatever. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Thank you for sharing,¡± the angel running this thing had said. I¡¯d settled on calling him Faucet. Apparently the English language couldn¡¯t handle most angel names without resorting to translations so long and colorful that they resembled poetry. When the angel had spoken his name, a scene of a babbling creek with palpable sunshine and unnaturally cute woodland creatures flashed through my mind. I may have found the whole thing pretentious, because Faucet was suddenly the only fitting nickname I could think of; it was the worst name I could imagine without triggering the language censorship system present here in Limbo. I could only nod at Faucet¡¯s words, wanting to say as little as possible while participating adequately. ¡°And could you tell us about your death? Perhaps even your life?¡± Faucet politely demanded. ¡°I suppose. I was just going back to grad school, because I decided a new round of student loans was worthwhile to get a better job, especially if the debt was going to be forgiven like so many people were saying. My poli-sci degree wasn¡¯t exactly what I¡¯d hoped.¡± I¡¯d wanted to go into politics. I was under no delusions about who I was; I''m not charismatic enough to be a politician of acclaim or anything, but I thought I could work my way up to a cushy position like superintendent for a board of education, a diplomat, or even just a more influential person¡¯s trustworthy secretary. Turns out, no such luck. The way to work yourself up in that world still took more people skills than I had. That was how I found myself as a line cook in a local restaurant. No way I was telling them all of that though. ¡°I died in an unfortunate accident. Excessive lacerations leading to death by blood loss,¡± I said in monotone delivery like I was a coroner. ¡°Thank you for sharing, Gregory.¡± Faucet said, causing a cascade of echoes from the others. At least some of them were corrected into saying my name properly. ¡°I suppose someone was being a real butterfingers that day?¡± Faucet added. Oh no. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you say so, Gregory?¡± I kept my face blank and did not humor his reply. Hopefully stonewalling him would kill his momentum. ¡°After all¡­¡± No. No no no no no no. ¡°...it''s not everyday that someone dies by butterknife.¡± There it is. My life is over. Well that was already over, I suppose it¡¯s my afterlife that¡¯s over now. ¡°I suppose not,¡± I finally replied, faking a curl that someone might¡¯ve considered a smile. Faucet let it go and moved on, but I could still feel people chuckling to themselves. It was true, I¡¯d technically been killed by a butterknife. I¡¯d known how that would sound. Maybe I should have just shared the story myself? No, Faucet seemed to enjoy his own joke too much; he would have made it even if I had told more of the story. Still, even that probably would have been less embarrassing. It had been a normal dinner shift after a day of classes, only one of the other workers had been a bit negligent. He¡¯d started a grease fire. I¡¯d noticed and started grabbing a damp rag to smother it, but I was too late. The idiot had been moving fast in a panic, grabbed an entire bucket of dirty mop-water that was lying around, and dumped the whole bucket into an active grease fire. The burst of fire that resulted had ignited the fuel within the stove and caused an even greater explosion, sending utensils and kitchenware galore flying outward at devastating speed. One especially viscous butterknife and its little friends had marked me as an easy target, and that was the end for me. My left arm was left hanging onto my shoulder by a thread and bleeding profusely; that¡¯s my final memory before coming here. Yeah my death sounded a lot better in context. I¡¯ll have to tell the full story myself next time. Oh well, lifelessness and learn, I suppose. After listening to the mandatory amount of participants remaining, I was free to go, released from the clutches of Afterlife Anonymous. At least, until next week, if I were still here. I¡¯d have to find a way out before then. Chapter 1: Character Creation Minervica has finally returned to the sanctuary that was her office, although ¡°office¡± might not have been a fitting word, by mortal standards. A sprawling library lay spread out before her, spreading beyond the horizon itself; bookcases with countless books and far too many half-finished scribbles, notes, and works lay within her domain. Statues roamed around orating lectures, rousing speeches, and whispered secrets alike while traipsing through the mess. Each statue tried to make order of the chaos, constantly transporting one book, scroll, or sticky note at a time, but their task was sadly in vain. More literature, in even the vaguest sense, descended every moment of every day along with the language flowing through the statues¡¯ mouths. Organization, however, was never the goal. Language, literature, and trade were the goals in and of themselves. Those were Minervica¡¯s precious domains, and her realm would be incomplete on a fundamental level if they were not represented here. To that end, there was no better place for the goddess to rest her head. Sadly, however, it was time for her to put her nose to the grindstone. A hero needed to be selected, and the perfect candidate wasn¡¯t going to just announce themselves. ¡°It is finally time,¡± she thought to herself, ¡°I suppose I can not put it off any longer. A difficult and exacting search must begin immediately.¡± With a clap of her hands, the realm rent itself apart and reformed in an instant, creating a specialized area for her pursuit. Filing cabinets and bookshelves surrounded an impractically large desk and office space. Minervica set to work immediately. And like that, ten years passed.
Gregory was absolutely done with Limbo. Gregory had held many different expectations about the after-life throughout his lifetime. Blissful, peaceful, torturous, arduous, and even boring, these were the adjectives he¡¯d imagined about the afterlife in his living days at one point or another, but never, even in his most imaginative moments had he ever considered that the after-life could be this pain-stakingly tedious. First, it was Afterlife Anonymous, a program about sharing regrets and deaths for the sake of coming to terms with them. For most, it was a safe place to work out a lot of messy emotions with people they need not worry about knowing for long. Some friendships even formed, people looking to form a support network or some connection in the wake of losing those they had in life. None of that interested Gregory. He was more concerned with the long-term future and figuring out his next step. Apparently, that next step was utter stupidity, because he¡¯d just quit his only limbo workshop: essay therapy. He¡¯d known it would be a stupid class, but he¡¯d at least expected it to be quiet and light on mandatory socializing and sharing. He¡¯d been wrong. The angel in charge of essay therapy had believed Gregory¡¯s falsified past experiences easily enough, but they insisted on writing long-winded messages dripping with sympathy and offered to fast track his way through towards an advanced therapy workshop. The whole thing smelled a little sanctimonious, but it still made him feel guilty. Now he was free of workshops entirely, but that was more stress than relief. Afterlife in Limbo was complicated, but to boil it down a person had three options: Seek judgment and be sent to a permanent afterlife, do workshops to work through old regrets and come to terms with death, or reincarnate into a new life, leaving old memories behind until you die again. Most people avoided the first option out of simple fear. The angels were overreaching chatterboxes by Gregory¡¯s standards, but apparently they could be tight-lipped about this. They refused to answer any questions about the long-term afterlives, the judgment process for it, or even what the system of ethics they ascribed to was. Reincarnation was the more popular option, by a large margin. After all, why risk hell or a similar style of afterlife when you can simply avoid being judged entirely? The problem was that you needed to do a fair number of workshops before you could even apply for reincarnation, and most people who applied as soon as they were eligible were rejected. You had to fulfill quite a large quota of workshops to be guaranteed reincarnation. You could also, hypothetically, keep doing workshops indefinitely. The angels would quietly shuffle you off for judgment if you were uncooperative with their many programs, but if you kept at them, the angels wouldn¡¯t bother you. At least, that¡¯s what Gregory had heard, but nothing he saw contradicted it so far, and whatever his complaints, the angels had at least been true to their own rules so far. Gregory, however, was now not in any workshops whatsoever. He couldn¡¯t stay like this for long. He wasn¡¯t entirely opposed to facing judgment, unlike some people; he might not have been a saint, but he hadn¡¯t been a monster or anything. He just wanted to face it on his own terms, if at all. He wanted to at least have reincarnation as an option, if he could help it. ¡°Time to muddle through the selections again,¡± he thought to himself. He began skimming through the nearly endless workshop options again like a man opening his fridge for the fifth time in a night, hoping his options had mysteriously improved themselves out of his sight. He had a couple days of leeway, but he knew he needed to get started soon if he didn¡¯t want a repeat of this.
¡°Finally, I¡¯ve found one,¡± Minervica muttered to herself as the deadline loomed over her. ¡°And he¡¯s perfect.¡± Minervica willed the dozens of books upon her desk to shut and put themselves away. Gregory Falci had been studying the workshop listings for about twelve hours when he fell asleep. He¡¯d only worked out three acceptable workshops, but each of them was more of a backup option than a true fit. One was a simple drawing class that focused on making mood boards their big issues, which was actually fine by itself for Gregory. However, it led into a gallery workshop that involved putting them all on display and giving speeches about them, which he found far too public and revealing for his personal comfort. He didn¡¯t want to risk lying again, after all. The others were a simple intro to public speaking, which was at least mortifying in a familiar way and didn¡¯t require as much personal discussion. The last was a workshop for cooking with a focus on doing so for other people and for personal comfort. It seemed a bit more social than he¡¯d like, but at least he knew his way around a kitchen already. After finding that course, he¡¯d put his head down for ¡°just a moment¡± and fallen asleep. He awoke, however in a strange room, a library without end filled to the brim with mumbling statues, colossal shelves, and incomprehensible amounts of books. ¡°Hello, Mr. Falci, welcome to my humble domain. I am a goddess and my name is Minervica.¡± A beautiful, bookish-looking woman with ridiculously large glasses on her face. She wore a placid smile. ¡°Are you always in the habit of kidnapping people for conversations,¡± Gregory thought to himself. To his surprise, his thoughts played aloud on a short delay. His cheeks flushed. Minervica snickered to herself. ¡°Sorry about that. I¡¯ve been cooped up in here for too long I¡¯m afraid. I needed to have a bit of fun before getting down to business. I¡¯m a goddess of language you see, among other things. I¡¯ll drop that spell now,¡± Minervica finished with a hand gesture. ¡°Is it off yet?¡± Gregory thought as clearly as possible. To his relief, it didn¡¯t reverberate through the room again. Then aloud, ¡°Should I take that as a yes?¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. This meeting, whatever it was, was already off to a terrible start in his eyes. If she wanted honesty, then indulging the thought she had loosed from his mind couldn¡¯t sour things much more. ¡°Summoning a mortal, especially one in limbo, for a conversation is among standard procedures, yes. Unfortunately, showing too much courtesy towards mortals is seen as a sign of weakness among divines. Politics, you understand?¡± Minervica said. ¡°A sign of weakness? From simple niceties? That¡¯s ridiculous!¡± Gregory barked out irritably. He¡¯d only just realized that he hadn¡¯t cleaned the drool from his face yet and began to clear it away. The recreation of his old body was a little messy but couldn¡¯t get truly dirty in Limbo, so he just had to stand and dust himself off a bit to clean up. ¡°It is,¡± the goddess readily agreed, ¡°but have you read myths? Gods are ridiculous and hostile enough towards each other, to say nothing of how they treat mortals.¡± She wore a solemn expression and allowed Gregory to digest this information. He took a moment to contemplate the various mythologies he was familiar with. The gods of Greek mythology were the ones he knew best, and the Olympians had always come across as dysfunctional children playing at adulthood in all but the best of times. Egyptian gods were always more busy fighting each other than dealing with Apophis, the foretold bringer of the apocalypse. Even the Norse gods had brought about their own reckoning with Ragnarok and how they had treated Fenrir. Perhaps she had a point. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fair,¡± Gregory said as he finished dusting and unwrinkling himself. ¡°What do you want me for then?¡± A terrible thought occurred to him. ¡°I¡¯m not being shuffled off to judgment yet am I?! I¡¯ve been looking at new workshops to join, I swear! Hell, my face was resting on the catalog when I was brought here!¡± Gregory rushed to get all the words out. ¡°Calm down, Mr. Falci. Nothing so drastic,¡± she reassured. ¡°You seemed interested in reincarnating, but weren¡¯t a fan of our workshop program. Does that sound accurate?¡± Well it wasn¡¯t quite that simple but¡­ ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s about right,¡± Gregory said. Minervica gave him a big grin, it looked goofy through the distortion of her giant lenses. ¡°In that case,¡± she said, ¡°I have an opportunity for you, if you¡¯re interested.¡± ¡°An opportunity?¡± he asked. ¡°Yes, I¡¯d like you to reincarnate with your full memories and familiar body intact and combat a terrible scourge on a world I¡¯m responsible for,¡± she said blandly, as if talking about the weather. ¡°In short, you¡¯d be my hero and be tasked with slaying the ultimate class of demon: the demon king.¡± Gregory took longer to process all that than he¡¯d have liked. Reincarnation? Hero? Demon king? It was all so¡­ ¡°Generic,¡± he accidentally uttered aloud. At least he did so with his own mouth this time. He grimaced as he realized what he¡¯d said. ¡°Oh good, you¡¯re familiar with the idea, that¡¯s become much more common these days. Sometimes successful heroes choose to reincarnate again and retell their stories, and, of course, people retell their stories within their own worlds. Between that and divine beings like angels and gods telling the stories on occasion, the idea is quite far-reaching these days,¡± Minervica explained. ¡°Still, it¡¯s odd. I mean, why would anyone want me for a hero anyway?¡± Gregory couldn¡¯t help but ask, even if it cost him the opportunity. Although, he wasn¡¯t sure he even wanted it. ¡°Because you want a change of circumstances, because you died with unfulfilled ambitions of greatness, and, most of all, because you¡¯re always thinking and observing,¡± she finished. ¡°I¡¯m a goddess of three domains: language, literature, and trade. As such, a man like you is suited to being my hero. We can arrange for the more¡­ traditional elements of a hero to be developed with divine blessings and other boons.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure that I buy that, but alright,¡± Gregory thought to himself. ¡°Two quick, important things I have to mention,¡± Minervica continued. ¡°First, if you succeed in your task, you get one wish, it can be for nearly anything, within reason. Immortality, afterlife selection, infinite reincarnations, and more are on the table.¡± Suddenly, the goddess had Gregory¡¯s full attention. ¡°Second, I¡¯m on a schedule that¡¯s running behind, so I can only give you twenty minutes to decide.¡± Gregory¡¯s jaw dropped, and he felt his expectations get whiplash from the rapid changes. Before he could even begin to recover, a countdown timer appeared before him, displaying the nineteen minutes and 47 seconds he had left to decide. Gregory didn¡¯t know what to think; he wasn¡¯t sure he even had time to think. ¡°Okay I¡¯ll have to think about it,¡± he said, being sure to keep his voice steady. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but we also have to select all of your starting options within this time frame, if you choose to accept of course,¡± Minervica added cooly. She wore a patient, even understanding expression too, as if Gregory had all the time in the world. He was torn. He wanted to take the deal, obviously. A wish was far too great a prize. Dying had been painful, infuriating, and even humiliating enough; he didn¡¯t want to go through that again. Facing judgment, however, was daunting in its own way. Death had already come for him, but seeking judgment had felt far too risky in its finality. If he succeeded in this task, he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about either¡­ ¡°What would I have to select?¡± he asked. Surely, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to just look over the options and select a couple; it would get him a better idea of what he was in for anyway. ¡°I¡¯ll bring up the menu for you,¡± the goddess said with a grin. Sure enough, a massive menu with too many sections appeared before him. He couldn¡¯t even see the whole thing without moving back far enough that he couldn¡¯t read the text. Worse yet, each section was just an expandable header. Options like ¡°Race¡± and ¡°Name¡± were a given, but with other options like ¡°Body¡±, ¡°Affinities¡±, ¡°Familiar¡±, ¡°Artifact¡± and so on, he had no context. He could guess well enough that magic existed in this otherworld, magic existing had been obvious since he woke up in Limbo, after all, but this was too much. ¡°You can keep your name the same for ease, if you like,¡± the goddess suggested with a kind smile. He suddenly had fifteen minutes remaining. ¡°You inconsiderate bitch,¡± Gregory thought. ¡°Fine, what about race?¡± He only recognized two of the options on the list. What the hell was a Dhampir anyway? ¡°Well¡­¡± she said, taking his time, ¡°you could continue as a human if you like, but they usually don¡¯t live as long in less developed worlds. Elves have incredible lifespans, and killing a demon king is the type of accomplishment that marks a lifetime. There is no urgent need here, in the mortal sense, to complete your task, so I think Elf would be a good choice for you.¡± It may have been Gregory¡¯s imagination, but it felt like she was speaking incredibly slowly. He selected ¡°Elf¡± before she had even finished her last sentence. The next selection was ¡°Affinities¡±. ¡°What are Affinities?¡± Gregory asked. Minervica began what felt like would be a long-winded explanation about the nature of affinities and magic, but Gregory cut her off and just asked for a quick summary. ¡°Well, to put it simply, they are your soul¡¯s talents for magic,¡± she drawled. ¡°However, the more you have, the less specialized you become; I recommend you stick with one or two.¡± Gregory browsed the hundreds, if not thousands, of affinities listed, but he ended up selecting two of the ones that came recommended for him by the menu. ¡°Sword¡± and ¡°Water¡± would have to do. Three minutes remaining. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn¡¯t ready to be judged, and he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to live another ordinary life either. He couldn¡¯t walk away from an opportunity like this, a chance to literally decide his fate. It was too great to pass up. ¡°I accept your task, Minervica, I¡¯ll be your Hero,¡± Gregory declared, trying to sound more confident than he felt. ¡°That¡¯s wonderful,¡± Minervica responded warmly. ¡°We still have a lot to get through, however¡­¡± Two minutes remaining. ¡°Yes, can you just¡­ pick out options that you¡¯d recommend?¡± he asked sheepishly. She grinned. ¡°Of course.¡± Suddenly, the menu flashed through impossible speed checking option after option before Gregory could even register what was happening, let alone read the selections. After the final option was selected, the menu shrank to one single block.
Confirm Selections?
Yes No
With only thirty seconds remaining on the clock, he forced himself to press ¡°Yes¡± at a measured pace. He couldn¡¯t risk the chance of ¡°No¡± resetting the whole process. ¡°Excellent,¡± Minervica said as her grin widened. Suddenly, the floor beneath Gregory fell away and took him with it. He began falling through a void of darkness before losing consciousness.
Gregory woke up with a start. Suddenly, he was awake in a strange new form. He could feel his ears were longer and pointed. His body was more lithe, but its texture was like bark. He went to run his hands through his hair. NO. Something was missing. No no no no no no no no no no no no. He could only feel one hand running through his hair. His left arm was gone. Chapter 2: Origin Minervica dropped the placid smile she had maintained with the mortal; it no longer served a purpose. She never understood why mortals concerned themselves more with the appearance of concepts like equality and politeness than the substance, but if even the most hollow form of kindness were a worthwhile weapon, then she would wield it all the same. Despite spending years doing the divine equivalent of browsing entertainment on office time, the goddess had been thorough in her selection. Not everyone was willing to even consider becoming one, and many who were often chose what they know instead. Whether it was judgment, reincarnation to an old world, or simply staying in limbo, when one had the twin dragons of familiarity and finality within reach, few were willing to leave them both behind. Grand incentives were only as tempting as their alternatives were unappealing, especially when considering that a major undertaking was required to earn them. All of that criteria, however, still only covers willingness to accept. Qualifications were another essential aspect to consider. If nearly anyone were qualified to be called a hero, then the many worlds of the multiverse would be utterly unrecognizable versions of themselves. The divine advantages granted to a reborn hero were many. No matter how numerous and great the advantages of a hero were, however, the failure rate had to be considered. By decree of The Interdimensional Accords of The Divine, every hero had to be granted certain boons to ensure success in their endeavors. A heaven-sent guide, a new, healthy body, Hero Aptitude, adaptation to their new home, magical enhancements, and a legendary weapon were only a scant few of the many requirements made strictly mandatory by the Accords. Minervica¡¯s task was a difficult one. After all, how was even a Goddess meant to set up a hero for failure with such boons at their command?
No matter how long Gregory groped around, his right arm could not find its twin. There was scarcely a stump past his left shoulder. It was severed a mere inch out past the left shoulder. The meager thread of flesh that loosely connected the stump to the rest of his arm in his final moments of consciousness had vanished, and it had taken the rest of the limb with it. In life, Gregory Falci had been left-handed.
¡°A promising start.¡± That was what Minervica¡¯s designated agent thought when their Lady¡¯s ¡°champion¡± endured a panic born from the shock of their circumstances. Per the Accords, he was obligated to explain the Hero¡¯s circumstances, privileges, and surroundings ¡°within days upon their arrival or once first faced with great stress.¡± Great stress, it seemed, was not in short supply with this ¡°Hero¡± of his.
Gregory did not remember many details after the panic had set in, but he remembered when the angel had appeared. Or should he say, reappeared. ¡°Hello, Mr. Falci. We meet again, it seems,¡± Faucet welcomed in the kind of hollow warmth that only angels and politicians seemed capable of producing. ¡°I gather you have questions?¡± ¡°Faucet,¡± Gregory spat. The angel dawned a perplexed expression. ¡°That is your first question? I¡¯m afraid the technology level in this world is not so great as to have plumbing, at least to the standards you are accustomed to.¡± Gregory was suddenly thankful that his face was already flush from distress; he hadn¡¯t meant to use the private nickname for the angel that he¡¯d used in his own mind. Normally, this would be when Gregory would make an excuse and obfuscate his slip up before Faucet could catch on. Normal Gregory wasn¡¯t present at the moment, however. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t asking for a sink. Faucet is going to be what I call you from now on. I can¡¯t possibly remember that flowery babble you call a name,¡± Gregory lashed out with. Faucet said nothing. Instead, the faux warmth from his face gradually, as if being expelled from him by his namesake. Gregory¡¯s chest tightened. He was typically an ¡°insult someone in your head first and to their face never¡± kind of person. He found it to be less trouble for himself in the long run that way. With trouble already past knocking at his door and throwing itself into his lap, however, he¡¯d let himself sink a little deeper. He braced himself for impact, emotionally; his hands flew to his chest to cross, only for another brutal, physical reminder of his crippled status to find him in shock once more. ¡°Fine, anything else you could use would be equally ignorant anyway, so ¡®Faucet¡¯ will suffice, I suppose,¡± he lamented. Gregory had expected something a little less mature. Was there something¡­ ¡°More importantly,¡± Faucet continued, ¡°I need you to focus. I have a divinely appointed task to complete and an interdimensional standard to uphold. However, I am restricted to guiding you for no more than a few hours per week by my pact with Lady Minervica, so we need¡­¡± That didn¡¯t add up. Faucet seemed a bit too restrained compared to his AA work; he hadn¡¯t been the most professional or stringent with rules like privacy then. Why did he care about getting this done properly now? Was it because that goddess is involved? No gods and goddesses, superiors of the angels, were mentioned all the time in Limbo. Gregory had even seen one once, flying through the skies at breakneck speed. The angelic bureaucrats and managers had been deferential to them but not in any worried capacity. Surely Faucet would have been more professional back then if he were worried about being a good little subordinate. Could it be a rise in scale? Like a promotion for him to be here? No, that alone didn¡¯t explain it either. The chain of command had been clearly established in Limbo and thoroughly explained to Gregory when he first entered. They gave the appearance of taking complaints and concerns seriously. Even if Gregory hadn¡¯t had enough faith in their system to take them up on the service, it was clear Faucet had been toeing the line, not crossing it, for a reason. Could it be¡­ ¡°What if I refuse?¡± Gregory interrupted. Faucet cycled through emotion quickly. First at lecturing to annoyance at the interruption. Then, he moved on to puzzlement at the question. Finally, his face moved on to a brief but true expression of horrified comprehension before returning to forced placidness. ¡°No interruptions, mortal. Welcome to the world of Corsica, you have been selected to undertake¡­¡± Faucet charged on with force. Gregory knew he was onto something. This formal persona Faucet was affecting didn¡¯t suit him at all. It didn¡¯t match with the man who would make a ridiculous and insensitive pun at a dead man¡¯s expense. Gregory began to cover his ears, only to once again be reminded of his recently departed arm. After a grunt of frustration, he gingerly pressed his newly elven left ear against a nearby tree to compensate for his left arm while covering his right ear with his hand. Then, he simply waited patiently. It wasn¡¯t long before Faucet performed the winged equivalent of stomping over to him. Faucet hollered and yelled for a while. He seemed to deflate rather quickly, not that Gregory could make out the words; that was sort of the point, after all. Eventually, Faucet must have resorted to pleading, because his tone shifted from what little Gregory could hear, and his hands clapped together to begin a prayer-like begging gesture. After a couple minutes of savoring that sight, Gregory relented and released his ear from the tree¡¯s embrace. ¡°-my pact with her if you want but¡­ Oh thank the gods!¡± Faucet said. ¡°So, you really do need me to hear you out, don¡¯t you?¡± Gregory pondered out loud. Faucet pursed his lips and nodded. ¡°Yes, if I break the Accords, I¡­ I can¡¯t break the Accords, and they need me to carry out a task. I need to guide you in this world now that I¡¯ve agreed to it,¡± he explained. ¡°Are you ready to listen?¡± he asked with a hint of hope. ¡°Depends on what you¡¯re willing to offer me,¡± Gregory replied more coolly than he felt. He hadn¡¯t actually expected this to work as well as it had. He figured that he¡¯d just get to annoy Faucet since the angel was more serious than before, especially since Gregory didn¡¯t need to worry about workshops or judgment now. Now, though, Faucet seemed desperate and panicked. Gregory could relate to that. After all, he¡¯d only just calmed down himself while listening to Faucet¡¯s garbled pleading. As much as Gregory didn¡¯t like the guy, that was no reason to make Faucet suffer or whatever the angelic being was worried about. ¡°What was that term you mentioned? Pact? What does it mean?¡± Gregory continued before Faucet could steer the conversation away from that interesting tidbit. Faucet looked like he¡¯d just swallowed lemon. ¡°A pact is a binding agreement vouchsafed by the divine. They are¡­ not something to take lightly.¡± ¡°Would you form one with me so you can complete this task of yours?¡± Gregory asked, trying to plow through Faucet¡¯s resistance. ¡°No!¡± Faucet immediately and firmly refused. Well, I suppose that would be asking too much. He¡¯s already being cornered by one pact, after all. I wonder what it is that made this pact of his tempting enough to take if the consequences are bad enough to cause this reaction so easily. Faucet seemed to interrupt Gregory¡¯s silent musings as disapproval. ¡°Please understand. I simply can¡¯t form a pact with a non-divine being without¡­ significant risks on their part. It¡¯s not that I can¡¯t or won¡¯t make one with you, it¡¯s that I shouldn¡¯t make one with you for your own sake.¡± Faucet elaborated. ¡°Then what were you saying when I uncovered my ears?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°I was explaining that, although I have certain loyalties to Lady Minervica and a pact to solidify them, I¡¯m willing to constrain them a bit if you cooperate. Namely, I can explain why your arm is missing.¡± Faucet braced himself as he spoke that last line. ¡°Deal.¡± Chapter 3: Orientation ¡°Deal.¡± Gregory had said, and, unfortunately, Faucet was delivering. ¡°Lady Minervica doesn¡¯t want you to succeed in the task she has given you.¡± Faucet said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. ¡°But she gave me this task. She¡¯s the one who made me a hero.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°She transformed me into an elf with magical powers just so I could be a better hero!!¡± ¡°In a way, yes.¡± ¡°She said she would grant me any wish if I succeeded. Is that even true?!?!¡± ¡°Within reason, but yes.¡± ¡°But WHY?!?!¡± Gregory couldn¡¯t help but shout in frustration. ¡°I can hardly explain like this, Falci. Please let me get through the Accords¡¯ requirements first. I think you¡¯ll understand better that way.¡± Faucet said. ¡°Eons ago, the divine beings that govern all of existence faced an impossible problem, one that the whole of the multiverse could not allow to continue. Demons and their corruption increasingly plagued the various worlds of creation. The greatest and most mighty gods sought to restore balance, that they might forever bring about harmony,¡± Faucet cited with a rehearsed tone, one that nonetheless held reverence for the subject. ¡°Harmony, they achieved, but not without cost. They bargained with the fabric of reality itself and came to an accord, The Interdimensional Accords of The Divine. Forevermore, the gods would need to protect the worlds of the multiverse from demons without direct intervention. Now gods must send and support champions to slay demons whenever they arise to prevent a second calamity,¡± Faucet finished. ¡°So,¡± Gregory continued when he realized Faucet was already finished, ¡°the gods had a demon problem, and they made a deal with physics to stop it? And now they make heroes do the dirty work whenever demons begin gaining traction again?¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t care about the majesty of it all, then yes, you could say that,¡± Faucet retorted in clear irritation. ¡°Is that all you needed to say to meet the Accords¡¯ criteria? That seemed a little¡­ brief?¡± Gregory wanted to say ¡°underwhelming¡± or ¡°disappointing¡± but Faucet seemed oddly invested in all of this. Maybe it was like religion for an angel? ¡°No, I still have to welcome you to this land and guide you through it as needed. However, as I said, I have a pact with Lady Minervica that restricts me in certain ways. I cannot guide you for more than a few stray hours a week, despite it being my only responsibility. I also can only guide you in certain ways, although the good Lady could not prevent me from explaining as much as possible about demons,¡± Faucet responded. ¡°I suppose that makes sense. I¡¯m guessing the Accords directly prevent that? They were pretty much made to handle demons, it seems. What can you tell me about them?¡± Gregory asked. ¡°They do,¡± the angel answered, ¡°and very little, I¡¯m afraid. I know almost nothing about demons. Just that they¡¯re twisted beasts who become increasingly distorted and virulent as they increase in power.¡± ¡°She couldn¡¯t stop you from talking, so she picked someone who wouldn¡¯t be able to give me any meaningful information, lovely¡­ Can this get any better?¡± Gregory said with bitter sarcasm. ¡°You could have had no arms left if you¡¯d died differently.¡± Faucet replied with a slight smirk returning to his face. Faucet was recovering enough to be normal rather quickly it seemed. ¡°Seriously?¡± Gregory replied. ¡°Yes, your left arm is missing purely because it was most similar to how your body was before death while still being healthy. Even gods have rules, Falci.¡± Faucet returned. ¡°Gregory. My friends call me Gregory,¡± he said as he extended his hand. ¡°Heh,¡± Faucet chortled, ¡°and we¡¯re friends now?¡± he continued with scathing sarcasm. ¡°Good point, Gregory is what my friends and you get to call me,¡± Gregory threw back. He doubted he and Faucet could ever really be friends, but at least he wasn¡¯t under Faucet¡¯s power like he so clearly was back in Limbo. He was underneath all the angels in the hierarchy there, not even close to an equal. ¡°Gregory it is,¡± Faucet said in mock subordination. His smirk regrew with a vengeance. ¡°What kind of rules did you mean then?¡± Gregory said. Faucet took a moment to stand and dust himself off a bit first. He may or may not have been prostrating to get Gregory¡¯s attention. ¡°First of all, I need to fulfill the Accords¡¯ requirements, but to answer your question briefly, your consent, dubious though it was, gave Minervica authorized control over your decisions before coming here. However, she still needed a non-zero amount of subconscious approval for every outcome or they wouldn¡¯t go through. That¡¯s how you end up with a body that¡¯s missing an arm but is otherwise perfectly healthy. If you came from a culture that was more critical of missing limbs as some kind of flaw, your subconscious may have rebelled enough to prevent the decision. As it is, it was probably only permitted because of how much you wanted to leave Limbo. Above zero in approval is not exactly a high threshold to meet, after all,¡± Faucet explained. ¡°That¡¯s an awful lot to process,¡± Gregory admitted. If that were true¡­ ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean¡­ anything could have worked as long as it¡¯s technically a benefit or has the appearance of one?¡± Gregory asked, hoping to be wrong. The sheepish grimace Faucet gave was answer enough. ¡°Well shit,¡± Gregory said; he had to cradle his chin with his right arm instead of his left to assume something resembling his normal pensive expression. There were plenty of options he hadn¡¯t even had the time to read, let alone examine properly. Out of the one¡¯s the he could remember there was ¡°Body¡± whose selection failure was obvious by now, but there were plenty he hadn¡¯t even seen evidence of yet. Worse yet¡­ ¡°Why would she want me to fail? Why select anyone at all if success isn¡¯t the goal?¡± Gregory asked. He didn¡¯t have the barest hint of a framework necessary for deciphering what motivated a god, but this obviously made no sense in isolation. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Faucet admitted, the embarrassment and distress from his last grimace sinking deeper into his face. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard anything but praise for the Accords and the gods that are tasked with upholding them. This is a first for me.¡± ¡°No ideas?¡± Gregory pressed. ¡°A few,¡± Faucet said, ¡°Either this is part of some kind of plan we cannot see to secretly help along the Accords¡­¡± ¡°Looking less and less likely by the second, Faucet,¡± Gregory chimed in. He flicked the bare stump of his left shoulder for emphasis. ¡°Or there¡¯s some kind of divine directive going against the Accords, whether from Minervica herself or one of her superiors¡­¡± Faucet finished. Gregory took stock of the situation: he was a stranger in a strange land, had a new, less effective body, magic and demons were real, and the closest thing he had to a friend out here was an unhelpfully restricted angel with some resentment going on between the two of them. Things were not looking good, to say the least. For now, he needed to figure out just how bad his circumstances were. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we rip the band-aid off, so to speak,¡± Gregory said. Faucet raised his eyebrow in a silent question. ¡°Tell me or show me each of the things I don¡¯t understand, starting with the stuff I picked out myself,¡± Gregory elaborated, trying to sound bolder than he was feeling. ¡°If you insist, we can. I need to explain a couple things first,¡± Faucet said. Before Gregory could inquire further, Faucet had walked away to grab a blackened, fallen branch, and he began drawing a large circle in the dirt with it, filling it with various shapes afterwards. ¡°This is designated as world ¦®.¦£.149 version b. That¡¯s only for the bureaucrats though. Most everyone calls this world ¡®Corsica,¡¯ including the natives,¡± Faucet lectured. ¡°Like the island? The one where Napoleon was born?¡± Gregory couldn¡¯t help but ask. ¡°What? They have a place named Corsica where you¡¯re from? That¡¯s odd. Must be one hell of a coincidence; either that or human language capacity is even more limited than I¡¯d realized and all of your names start overlapping eventually. No matter. Regardless of that little oddity, the name has no relation to your world whatsoever. It means ¡®land of many spirits¡¯ in one of the most common languages here,¡± Faucet continued. ¡°And here,¡± Faucet said while circling the uppermost group of shapes, ¡°is the northernmost, habitable continent. It consists of two opposing land formations: a temperate archipelago on the southern end and a more frigid main landmass to the northern end. We, however, are located here.¡± As he finished speaking, Faucet pointed his stick towards one of the islands. It was more or less in the middle of the archipelago by latitude, but its longitude was the furthest west of all the islands. Since it was an archipelago, there were a number of islands that seemed, from a map view at least, close by enough for island hopping. However¡­ ¡°There¡¯s no civilization here, is there?¡± Gregory prompted Faucet. ¡°No, not so much as a small village,¡± Faucet responded. Gregory had suspected as much when he¡¯d seen the map. Two great rivers spread through the northern landmass of this continent, which was much further east than his own puny island. Rivers of fresh water were foundations of low technology civilizations. Gregory still wasn¡¯t sure how low exactly this world¡¯s technology level was, but it couldn¡¯t be much compared to Earth¡¯s level based on Faucet¡¯s plumbing comment a while back. If people here even had continent crossing capabilities, however, that would do him little good immediately. The second reason that Gregory had been sure he was alone was simple. For a makeshift map drawn in dirt, Faucet had done an excellent job. Gregory could easily tell that the two other major continents were closer than a trip across the Atlantic Ocean on Earth while still being much longer and more inconvenient than a trip across the Mediterranean Sea. They were, however, to the south and east of this continent. Depending on where people originated from in this world, this little island of his would be one of the furthest reaches from the original point people emerged from. Neither of those two, however, were the best reason for assuming the two of them were utterly alone here. Gregory hadn¡¯t had a lot of time here in this new world to devote to his surroundings, and he¡¯d had even less mental capacity for it with the rollercoaster of emotions and information. He¡¯d begun to realize, however, that he couldn''t see a body of water in sight, let alone the ocean. Instead, the horizon was dominated by steep hills on all sides. The hills were tall enough that Gregory¡¯s mind kept being tempted to label them mountains. Boxing the land he could see in on all sides, the hilly terrain was responsible for what had to be an early sunset settling into place. He was running out of time. Time with faucet and time with light out were both precious resources now. ¡°I hate to rush you but¡­¡± Gregory began. ¡°I¡¯ll hurry up,¡± Faucet assented. ¡°This land is known as Vesselia, the Continent of Chalices. It is occupied by a nation of the same name. Thankfully, it¡¯s ruled by a demon king with four demon lieutenants,¡± the angel finished. Gregory slowly turned from facing the map to facing his guide, a look of quiet, horrified bewilderment dawning on his face. Gregory wasn¡¯t sure how much time passed before the oppressive silence was broken. ¡°Did you get all of that, Gregory?¡± Faucet asked with all the empathy of a brick. ¡°WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!¡± Gregory couldn¡¯t help but shout at the angel. ¡°The whole continent is ruled by the demon king I need to kill, AND they have a whole FOUR demon lieutenants presumably with a fittingly demonic level of power?!¡± ¡°And serving at the demon king¡¯s every command, yes, of course,¡± Faucet replied placidly. ¡°What the hell did I sign up for?¡± Gregory asked himself for what would surely be the first of many times. ¡°Well, do you understand what I¡¯ve told you at least?¡± Faucet asked with a hint of concern. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Gregory replied, ¡°I think I do.¡± He held his head in his hand. He didn¡¯t think he could appreciate in full that he¡¯d been asked not just to kill a powerful demon, by the sound of things, but also one who ruled a whole continent. If he was right, he had essentially signed up to assassinate a king who was also a powerful warrior and a freak of nature. He¡¯d have to ask Faucet about demons before he let his mind get away from him, though. ¡°Splendid. It¡¯s about time for me to go, anyway, and that was the last of what I needed to impart on you to meet the Accords¡¯ requirements,¡± Faucet said with obvious and oblivious relief. The sun was nearly set behind the hills entirely now, and Gregory had been far too occupied with Faucet and shock to seriously consider his plans for shelter that night. Before he could consider the issue in earnest, however, his thoughts were cut off by howls. Perhaps shouting at Faucet hadn¡¯t been the wisest idea. Worse yet, Faucet, his one and only ally present, was slowly disappearing. He¡¯d always thought wolves howling was more for dramatic effect than realism. Why not value stealth over cheap intimidation? As he was quickly and completely surrounded by a large ring of wolves, however, he became brutally aware of how much he¡¯d undervalued simple communication and cooperation. Suddenly, Faucet was shouting at Gregory, barely arresting his attention from the enclosing circle of wolves. ¡°DO YOU TRUST ME?!¡± the increasingly transparent angel yelled. ¡°OF FUCKING COURSE NOT!!!!¡± Gregory screeched back. His heartbeat had gotten faster so suddenly that it was caught in his ears, bringing with it a surge of panic that he¡¯d been suppressing all day. As his body prepared itself for fight or flight, Gregory turned his back on Faucet to take better stock of the wolves. As if he¡¯d been anticipating it, Faucet struck in that exact moment. He lunged and shoved Gregory towards the tall, blackened tree that his drawing stick had fallen from. The last thing Gregory Falci remembered was his head colliding with the tree¡¯s ashen bark before everything went dark.