ã€ŠGrid Of Discovery: Orderã€‹


 Chapter 1

    Standing over a pile of slowly liquefying meat and fur was a small figure ¨C a brown haired woman, to be precise. She coldly watched on as the meat pile mewled and howled weakly, uncaring to its cries and pleas for someone to help it, merely concerned with recording down the results of the test that was just conducted.

    She was accompanied by two other individuals, a taller man that was shouting something angrily, and an obviously distraught girl who was covering her eyes and bawling. The brown haired lady did not respond to either of her companions¡¯ cries, choosing instead to nonchalantly continue checking off boxes in her leather planner. The man grabbed her and forcibly turned her to face him, still ranting about some irrelevant nonsense. The brown haired woman stared at him in mild shock and confusion. She did not understand. Why was he angry?

    -The experiment was going well, wasn¡¯t it?

    Four days back, in the heavenly realms, across the Sea of Stars and past the Dimensional Wall, there laid a fair maiden in slumber, eyes shut, hands clasped together over her chest. Where one would usually slip into something more comfortable, perhaps a silken night gown or cotton pyjamas, this individual was instead clad in her signature white robe, a belt of various measuring tools and recording devices still strapped around her waist.

    This particular lady had a very strict and rigid routine which she followed to the exact letter, including timing her internal clock down to the very minute; exactly 24 hours after when she woke last.

    She had to, of course. For she was one of the most diligent and hard-working Gods on this plane of existence. And it wasn¡¯t like she could be everywhere at once. Although she did once try to cajole the God of Time and Perseverance into an arrangement where he would split her timeline into four at the beginning of each day, thereby quadrupling her efficiency.

    A pity he was more concerned with the mental strain merging all four sets of memories into one at the end of the day would cause rather than the time it would save.

    And it would save so much time.

    This was the next best thing; calculating and compartmentalising the entire day into neat segments, then following that plan religiously, with no deviation. And she was very good at following rules; one wouldn¡¯t have been given the moniker of Order if they weren¡¯t able to do something as simple as that.

    Tick...Tick¡­Tak. Time to wake up.

    The God of Order and Knowledge opened her eyes. Another day of recording and cataloguing the vast world the Gods called home.

    Yawning, she removed a small leather-bound notebook labelled 255 from her waist and flipped through the pages. Sure, the memory of assigning the tasks for the day to each individual timeslot was still fresh in her mind from her planning session seven hours back, but it didn¡¯t take much time to check. Besides, it was part of her allotted fifteen minutes of preparation time at the beginning of each day.

    ¡°Oh-zero to oh-fifteen, prep and relaxation. Oh-fifteen to one, reconcile records of wealth on the God of Greed and Gluttony with physical existence, then sort by type. One to two, small talk and socialising with the God of Truth and Honesty. Two to three, replenish reserves of divine energy from the God of Life and Creation. Three to three-fifteen, devise a plan to get away from the God of Life and Creation.¡±

    The God of Life and Creation wasn¡¯t exactly someone Order hated - but his ramblings had a way of taking up a lot more time than she allotted. Plus, he had this sort of kindly-elder atmosphere that Order had a hard time dealing with (which came with being the first and most powerful God). So nowadays, she decided that avoidance was better than endurance. Besides, it was like a logic puzzle, she reasoned. Keep her wits sharp and improve daily efficiency. Win-win.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Three-fifteen to fou- ugh.¡± Order grimaced. She¡¯d have to check up on her eventually. Might as well get it out of the way in the first four hours of the day. ¡°¡­meet with sibling and exchange pleasantries.¡±

    Now, her sibling. Her, she despised. Well, perhaps despised was too strong a word. More annoyed than anything.

    Gods were created in pairs. (The Original Existences, anyways. The lesser Gods that the God of Life and Creation produced in truckloads generally weren¡¯t bound by the same rules.)

    They were counterparts, if you would. For every God of Greed and Gluttony, there was a God of Selflessness and Virtue. God of Life and Creation? God of Death and Taxes. (His title did once use to be the God of Death and Destruction, but he picked up the novel, new phrase from a soul he met once and liked it so much he decided to amend it to his current designation.) God of Truth and Honesty? God of Deception and Trickery.

    The God of Order and Knowledge was the same. Her sister was the Goddess of Chaos. Which, of course, needled her greatly. Chaos refused to follow the naming conventions that all Gods currently in existence had submitted to. (Well, less submitted to, and more general-sense-of-apathy-and-disinterest in how they were addressed, anyway)

    Goddess rather than God. A single vocation rather than two. And most of all, she was the caretaker of chaos. The leader of disorder. Literally the only thing that the God of Order and Knowledge absolutely abhorred. Order sighed. No point agonizing over it, she supposed. She¡¯d worry about it when the time came. Besides, the meeting was (arguably) an important one in the grand scheme of things. What better way to maintain order than to ensure the absence of disorder?

    Order clapped the notebook shut. The rest was routine enough. She¡¯d had hundreds of years of practice, after all. Enough time that she would¡¯ve been able to do it blindfolded. And sleepwalking. If you¡¯d cut off her head, her body would probably still continue to carry out her routine, she mused, chuckling to herself.

    She removed her white boots from her bedside cabinet and slipped them on, knotting the laces together. She grimaced, reminded of another taunt from Chaos about how she was ¡°keeping on-brand¡± with the full white ensemble. Order quite liked it. A symbol of complete harmony and order. Devoid of both blemish and disturbance. What was wrong with ¡°keeping on-brand¡±? On-brand meant consistency. On-brand meant a strict adherence to an individual¡¯s ideals, their values.

    She held the offending line of thought for a moment more, before dismissing it. There was work to be done, and there were another seven minutes left in the allotted fifteen minutes. She mentally ran through her tasks another time. Greed, Truth, Life, Chaos (ugh), then the full gamut of conversations with a couple of lesser Gods, then finally back to her Library for the review of the day and the compiling of the schedule for the next.

    Order got to her feet and walked over to the oak door. She inhaled once, then let it out. OK. She¡¯d planned for everything. Nothing would go wrong today. Nothing like that one time five years back where she¡¯d dropped book number 249 at one of her stops and she had to retrace her steps for three hours and then she was late to- Ok, stop. Order closed her eyes and thought happy thoughts to banish the anxiety that she had invited into her mind. Parallel lines. Prime numbers. The golden ratio. A perfectly drawn circle.

    After her mind had finally returned to the state of order and calm she operated most efficiently at, Order opened her eyes, turned the doorknob and stepped through. First stop, the God of Greed and Gluttony.

 Chapter 2

    Money. Gold. Gem and jewel. It didn¡¯t take much time for Order to reach Greed¡¯s domain. You could hardly miss it, in fact; the glittering mountains of riches occupied a large portion of the Western Living Areas, after all, and the sheen of metal and crystal stole the attention of any visitors to this part of the divine realms.

    All of it maintained meticulously by Order, of course. Recorded and more importantly, sorted by type and value.

    A couple hundred years back, Greed had simply tossed each of his new acquisitions haphazardly onto a nearby pile. An accumulation of wealth over multiple centuries of harvesting minerals from passing asteroids, and making deals with the occasional mortal or two.

    The resulting image was, well, in Order¡¯s opinion, a vulgar assault to the senses. Her senses, to be precise. Her Library of Records was located to the far left of the Western Living Area, meaning that she had to walk by, day and night, past a complete and utter denial of her life¡¯s purpose in the form of a hideous blob of rainbow coloured shapes and objects.

    It took her three years of pleading and begging for Greed to finally allow her (reluctantly) to even touch his treasures so that she could create an itemized list by type and value, and finally put an end to the visual torture inflicted upon her day on day.

    All under his watchful eye, of course. Could never be too careful around others, she was told. After all, thieves could come from anywhere. Especially friends and family, he griped. You have to tell them where the traps are, after all.

    ¡°¡­Ten million and twenty three. That¡¯s all of the gold bars in this section. We¡¯ll be finished after the ruby piles.¡± Order placed the bar back onto the stack, making her way towards the mounds of red jewels, Greed following close behind.

    The God of Greed and Gluttony was a particularly¡­ stout individual. He wasn¡¯t one you¡¯d call fat, but he certainly wasn¡¯t skinny, either. Rotund, perhaps. Think a slightly deflated balloon hobbling around.

    His stature was the result of his daily routine of voraciously shoving delicacies from the mortal realms down his gullet, the smell, taste and appearance of which were faithfully stolen and recreated with his divine power, then subsequently wolfed down in seconds.

    Normally, Gods weren¡¯t able to breach the Dimensional Wall erected by the God of Life and Creation at the inception of the fabric of reality. There were two known ways to bypass this restriction, however. You¡¯d either have to have a significantly lower level of divine energy than that of other Original Existences, which would enable you to slip through the Wall entirely. Levels like that of lesser Gods, that is. (The caveat being that these lesser Gods would literally be unable to manifest in front of other Gods in the heavenly realms, effectively being ghosts in their own home)

    Or¡­ you could simply have as much divine energy as the God of Life and Creation himself. As much godly power as the literal creator of the heavenly realms.

    Naturally, the God of Greed met the latter requirement. Wasn¡¯t hard, either, when you were as miserly as he was. Gods were nourished by engaging in activities aligned with their vocation, but most Gods spent just as much godly power in carrying out these activities as they received.

    Greed? All he required was a god¡¯s innate strength and constitution to break up large space rocks for the goodies within, to laze around his domain, admiring his stash of immense wealth, and he was content.

    This stockpile of power, fuelled by centuries of energy conservation, enabled Greed to do a multitude of things other Gods would never even dream of, like setting up a giant energy forcefield encompassing his entire domain which would stun and incapacitate intruders (any treasure you couldn¡¯t defend wasn¡¯t yours, after all), or forcefully holding open a tiny hole through the Wall to have a gander at the happenings of the mortal realms, so as to recreate the finest banquets one could dream of.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    All for himself.

    Order could be said to be Greed¡¯s direct opposite, at least in terms of energy consumption. She burned through her divine power reserves on a daily basis; to the extent that she had to top it up every day with a visit to the God of Life and Creation.

    Her ability, explained simply, was manipulation of data; being able to know everything about any object with perfect understanding by merely touching it, or extruding the ability to overwrite the surroundings in some form. In fact, it was thanks to this ability that she was even able to converse with lesser Gods, a feat that most other Gods would not be able to imitate.

    A drawback to its versatility was that the energy burn rate was proportionally related to the amount of history behind the item in question, as well as the object¡¯s own interference values. Perfect understanding meant just that: to know everything, the feelings and regrets of the person who had created it, the impact it made when it interacted with other individuals and all events it was a part of.

    This meant that if she were to attempt to learn everything about, say, the God of War and Hate, she¡¯d be down with a raging fever by the time year 6 of his history rolled around, divine energies fully exhausted, given that her ability would have to contest both the interference from his innate divine constitution as well as the amount of mortal suffering he was present for.

    Which was a lot of suffering.

    It did however, make counting large piles of wealth a breeze, especially given that inanimate piles of gems and gold usually didn¡¯t have much history behind them, nor divine aura to interfere with her ability. Greed¡¯s daily wealth count was one of the easier parts of her day, actually. She took it as a warm-up for other more mentally exhausting tasks she was dreading, like talking to Chaos. The mindless repetition of moving shiny things around, forming a satisfying, uniform pile was quite calming to her and something she rather enjoyed. Loved, even.

    ¡°Are you done? Can you leave now? I have things to do.¡± An impatient voice rang out behind her, abruptly cutting off her train of thought.

    Order sighed and turned around. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve completed my task. Many thanks once again for allowing me to do this, God of Greed and Gluttony.¡± He grunted in acknowledgement, before practically shoving her out the front gate, waving his hand in a hurried flourish over the entrance, re-engaging the energy film and sealing the bubble of divine energy once again.

    Order watched as the grumbling hulk disappeared behind a pile of gold coins, shaking her head in disapproval. They were fellow Gods, after all, and she expected a level of respect or decorum befitting that status.

    Then again, she thought, it was Greed, after all. The man treated nothing but his treasures with care. He¡¯d probably fight the God of Life and Creation himself if it threatened his precious collection.

    She retrieved the brown leather notebook from her waist and crossed off the first line. That¡¯s one task down, at least. And ahead of schedule, too.

    Order returned the book to the loop on her belt and started to trudge down the path to her next appointment ¨C her long-time friend and confidant, the God of Truth and Honesty.

 Chapter 3

    The large snow-white cathedral where the God of Truth and Honesty resided soon came into view in front of Order. Stained glass windows dotted the front and sides of the pure white walls, each depicting the God who lived within in a different flamboyant pose. There was a gold trim encircling the edges of the walls and a well-maintained garden of red roses surrounded the perimeter, courtesy of a little help now and again from the God of Life and Creation.

    A bit too gaudy and ostentatious for Order¡¯s liking, to be perfectly honest; Order¡¯s own abode consisted of a simple log cabin with two rooms: a bathroom connected to a bedroom. She felt that the appearance of a home didn¡¯t take priority over practicality. You¡¯d only be going there to rest and recuperate, after all. Why bother with frills?

    Which was why the bulk of her domain was only accessible via a hidden staircase underneath the log cabin¡¯s floorboards, leading to the sprawling 428-level repository of records she had amassed over centuries of compilation, each level home to multiple sections dedicated to a topic or skill that Order had learnt about. If you ever had a burning question about some obscure and archaic topic that you just had to know the answer to, all you¡¯d have to do would be to pose the question to Order, and by the end of the day she¡¯d have a full presentation for you, complete with illustrations and details, set up and ready for your perusal in the location of your choosing.

    ¡°Speaking of which, level 428 is almost full. I may need to request the assistance of Death again soon.¡± Order mumbled to herself. Levels 386 to 428 were about the lesser Gods that were created by the God of Life and Creation, their personalities, abilities and accomplishments in the mortal realm. And seeing as he was still making new Gods to this day, it was unlikely that Order would ever complete this section of her Library.

    She stopped in front of the towering double doors of the cathedral, and rapped on the wood twice. ¡°My greetings, God of Truth and Honesty. It is I, the God of Order and Knowledge. As per our prior arrangements, I have arrived to engage in our weekly hour of friendly banter and discussion on various topics that have struck our fancy. May I enter?¡± Order called out. Etiquette was paramount when meeting with acquaintances, after all. To her, at least.

    While practicality was important, Order prided herself on following proper decorum in her interactions with her fellow Gods. All interactions, in fact. She knew not to impose her own high standards onto others, though, which was why she never corrected them if they didn¡¯t return a greeting in the right manner or forewent the greeting entirely. And perhaps it was rather pointless to speak formally when the people she spoke to regularly had known her for hundreds of years¡­ but it was something that Order would be unlikely to ever budge on. She was the literal God of Order, after all.

    ¡°Oh hey!¡± An airy, floaty voice could be heard echoing from behind the double doors. ¡°Come on in, bestie! I¡¯ve set the tables and everything for our little pow-wow!¡± Order pushed through the doors, taking care to close them behind her as she entered. The interior of the home of the God of Truth and Honesty was more of the same as its exterior, really: intricately carved marble statues (of Truth, of course) flanked the sides of the room, alternating between statue and water feature, and glittering chandeliers of gold hung from the ceiling, providing a warm, orange hue to the room.

    In the centre of the room was a comparatively tiny circular wooden table, with tea and various small cakes and snacks laid upon it. Truth was seated at this table, clad in a fluffy, light pink dress that honestly clashed with the general vibes of her home. The lady smiled at Order as she made her way over.

    The God of Truth and Honesty was, truthfully, Order¡¯s favourite person to be around. While Truth might be a little¡­ distracted some of the time, Order couldn¡¯t help but like her.

    After all, lies and falsehoods prevented true order from taking shape, and in the presence of the God of Truth and Honesty, no lie or untruth could ever be uttered. (Her counterpart, the God of Deception and Trickery didn¡¯t quite fancy that, so he never really visits)

    Her vocation was as close to Order¡¯s as any God could be and as such, Order felt a sort of affinity with her. Even if she might be a little disorganized sometimes. Just a little.

    ¡°Sooooo,¡± Truth drawled, ¡°What¡¯s up with yoooouu these days? Anything fun?¡± ¡°Not much, I suppose. Mostly maintenance and record-keeping. I¡¯ve added the descriptions of another forty lesser Gods to my archives this week and by the end of today I should hope to add another 6.¡±

    Truth started to slump forward onto the wooden table. ¡°Gaaah¡­ why does Lifey keep making them? Isn¡¯t, like, a hundred enough? Like, you¡¯re becoming a hoarder man¡­¡±

    ¡°Actually,¡± Order interrupted, ¡°It¡¯s more like five hundred and forty thousand, now.¡±

    ¡°HUHHH? Geez, that old man really needs to find another hobby, right? Isn¡¯t he, like the God of Plants or something? Like, he makes grass and stuff grow, right?¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s an over-simplification of his godly designation, actually-¡° Order started, and was summarily cut off.

    ¡°Stoppppp¡­ I don¡¯t really care about thaaaat¡­¡± Truth groaned, as she slowly lifted herself off the table back to an upright position. She picked up her teacup and sipped. ¡°Y¡¯know what¡¯s up with me? I¡¯ve taken up a hobby of talking to the local wildlife! Y¡¯know, the sorta purple wriggly thingies around the leftish of that like, reddish star?¡±

    Order consulted her mental map. The lifeforms that resembled octopi that recently gained sentience, yes. The Tako-beru were meticulously observed and archived in her Library around sixty years back, after all. Greed had also offered up his (unsolicited) opinion on them at the time. A bit chewy, but went well with copious amounts of alcohol, apparently. Fried was better, too.

    ¡°They were like, fighting and arguing and stuff, so I popped over and told them to stop! Then like, y¡¯know, they started building statues of me and stuff! Oooh, and they started dressing in these like, cute pinkish cloaks with like, 20 sleeves! Isn¡¯t that cute?!¡± Truth exclaimed, vibrating in her seat with excitement.

    Order considered her words. Worship from lesser beings was one way of replenishing divine energies that Order had briefly researched before, due to her daily requirements. Even a small grain of sand, in excess, could form a huge desert, after all.

    However, at the time she dropped the line of thinking, due to the costs outweighing the benefits. It required one to be able to bypass the Wall first and foremost, which would already require huge reserves of divine energy that most Gods wouldn¡¯t be able to provide, least of all Order.

    And in order to maintain the religions that would have been created around the God, he or she¡¯d would have to periodically show their countenance to that civilisation, meaning that it would be a timesink for that God. No-go for Order. Additionally, the mortal beings from beyond the Wall had terribly short lifespans, often perishing in full in less than a mere century, usually the result of rapid technological advances causing catastrophic societal collapse in one way or another.

    Then again¡­ the Sea of Stars encompassed the space around both the divine realms and the mortal ones, both behind the Wall and within it. And within it, especially with their close proximity to the divine realms, lifespans of any such organisms that sprang to life would have great improvements compared to those of the mortal realm. And it probably wouldn¡¯t take that much time to pop over to a planet or two once every fortnight or so¡­ Order shelved the thought for later.

    She¡¯d peruse her repositories, look for a couple of inhabited, intelligent planets and draw up a detailed step-by-step plan to form a religion or two. If successful, she could probably limit the daily trips to the God of Life and Creation to a weekly one. Maybe even once a month.

    ¡°Anywhoo,¡± Truth popped a tiny cake into her mouth. ¡°You¡¯re going to meet Lifey after this, right? Say hi for me! Ooh, and maybe you could help me ask him about the unicorns I asked for, like, a while back? This place really needs something more-ish, y¡¯know?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass on your regards. As for the unicorns, you might have to give up on them. If they could remain corporeal on this plane, each of those horses would have more divine energy than any lesser God.¡± Order picked up a particularly juicy-looking fruit tart and took a bite, the tangy flavour of peach and mango filling her mouth. ¡°The God of Life and Creation has been trying to increase the capacity and output of divine power for his creations, though. I estimate that he¡¯ll be able to create a lesser God with the ability to interact with the heavenly realm perhaps in the next two to six centuries. Maybe then he¡¯ll start working on your unicorns.¡±

    The rest of the hour was spent on light gossip (mostly initiated by Truth), as she filled Order in on the happenings in the divine realms.

    Like how Love was messing around with Time (¡°she¡¯s suuuch a tease!¡±), or how the Tako-beru started a culture of ritual sacrifice around her, (¡°well, I didn¡¯t ask them to do that¡­¡±) or how the lesser God of Stories and Creativity had been entertaining her with riveting tales of heroes and villains now and again. (¡°He didn¡¯t come today though, wonder where that little scamp is?¡±) Small stuff like that.

    Finishing her tea, Order stood from her chair. ¡°I enjoyed my time today with you, God of Truth and Honesty. I look forward to the next time we meet, a week from today. I bid you farewell.¡±

    ¡°Bye Order! See you next weeeeek!¡±

    The first 20 or so times they met, Truth had tried to get Order to do away with the formalities, like robotically stating her full title every time. But she learnt (eventually) that Order would never change, so she gave up and just rolled with it. The way Order currently was, tics and all, was who she was at her core, right?

    And like, if someone was true to themselves, who was she to stop them?

 Chapter 4

    Stop Number Three was the home of the God of Life and Creation, the progenitor of all Gods in existence. Well, the earliest one to be made, anyways.

    Gods were the very first beings to come into existence; the Original Existences, if you would. They were formed in the void, the infinite nothingness before everything came into being, literally springing to life, shaped and moulded by their own minds.

    Life, in particular, was akin to a blazing sun when he was created. The divine energies radiating off of him grew universes and worlds countless lightyears away, with every new being or organism opening their eyes returning a portion of the divine power that they had received back to him, further fueling his life-bringing aura.

    It was in this primordial soup of molten energies that Order and the other Gods were created, siphoning off and finally curbing the constant cycle of give-and-receive of divine energy that Life was stuck in for the first month of his life.

    Death, his counterpart, was created at this time as well, but initially held a comparatively smaller amount of divine power, given that nothing had yet perished in this new plane of existence. This would change in time, of course, and nowadays the two siblings had a similar level of godly energy, but Life would always see the latter as his younger brother.

    Death didn¡¯t quite hate that though, and unlike most other Gods and their siblings, he respected and cared for his older brother. Life and Death as concepts were inextricably linked, after all, and there could not be one without the other.

    Order arrived at the entrance of Life¡¯s residence. Contrary to what one might expect of the God, instead of a treehouse nestled in an ancient giant sequoia in the middle of an all-encompassing, dense forest, with wildlife frolicking in the background and butterflies floating around flowers in full bloom¡­ Life had instead chosen to live with his brother, Death.

    And apparently the role of home designer had been left to him as well, as the current residence of the God of Life was a large, ominous, silver cube. With various metal-sculpted skulls of a variety of animals and humanoids adorning its front. On an island suspended in the middle of the Sea of Stars with no other solid ground other than the path leading to the Cube.

    Order supposed that Life¡¯s status as the greatest God did afford him some leeway in terms of where he wanted to live, but she couldn¡¯t help but imagine what Life¡¯s domain could have been. It would be more fitting if every God were neatly located in a site which most suited their calling.

    On the other hand, she pondered, if every God were to live in a grid of Cubes connected by paths and proper signage, it¡¯d actually be a lot more efficient and orderly. If one wanted to visit another, all they¡¯d have to do would be to follow the path an- No, she was being silly. That would be akin to imposing her rigid standards onto Gods that outranked her. She¡¯d be overstepping her boundaries in a huge way. She waved the thought away. No point in wasting time over something that would never happen.

    She rapped on the metal gate, which rattled unpleasantly. ¡°I, the God of Order and Knowledge, would like to request an audience with the God of Life and Creation, with regards to the replenishing of my reserves as per usual. I thank you in advance for your assistance and understanding with regards to this matter.¡± Order called out.

    From the darkness beyond the gate stepped a lanky, masked individual wearing a pitch-black suit-and-tie, a cape of black feathers draped around his shoulders. This person, equipped with a mask carved from bone resembling the skull of some humanoid, was the God of Death and Taxes. Life was always busy with something or other when Order came by, so Death was often the one to let her in.

    ¡°He¡¯s in the usual place, all the way in the back. He might have not heard you, so just announce yourself before you enter the room, or you might break his concentration.¡±

    ¡°My thanks to you, God of Death and Taxes.¡± Order stepped into the cube, and started towards the farthest wall. Order guessed that Life was probably working on another lesser God, as he usually did nowadays.

    The Original Existences that Order and the other Gods were a part of were not designed by Life; he didn¡¯t have a say in what ability they had or the personalities that they might have developed. It was a roll of the dice, if you would, that each God were created in the form that they ended up as.

    Life wasn¡¯t much happy about that. He was supposed to govern the concept of life and creation. He had the ability to make beings, entire organisms that had never existed before then, appear from thin air. And you¡¯re telling him, of all Gods, that his best efforts couldn¡¯t beat damned luck and chance?

    It didn¡¯t take much priority in his mind at first, since he was content with simply watching over the worlds he had been instrumental in creating. Through the creation of a puppet avatar (for he understood that direct contact would incinerate their fragile forms), he had walked with the mortals, interacted with them, learned and lived with them. That had been his life for the first few centuries of Life¡¯s existence.

    He had erected the Dimensional Wall around an area of the Sea of Stars surrounding the divine realms. Not to protect the Gods, no; but instead to protect these precious, mortal realms that had existed further from the sphere of divine influence that were the godly realms. He knew that the further life grew from the Gods, the weaker they would be, and the quicker they would die. And any organisms closer to the Gods, conversely, might threaten these defenseless children with their longer lifespans and increased strength.

    His constant interactions with them were meant as a form of nourishment; with close proximity to his divinity, they would be able to exist for longer periods of time. He had reasoned to himself: he¡¯d just be helping them along, just until they¡¯d be able to fend for themselves. It wasn¡¯t a big deal, any parent would do the same for their children.

    Just one more year. They¡¯d be able to protect themselves soon.

    Just one more month. Surely they¡¯d learn how to extend their lifespan.

    One more day. Don¡¯t leave me.

    Please.

    But that day never came.

    And that broke him. After century on century of watching the ones he loved cease to exist, returning to Death who would lead them to their ultimate, final end in the void¡­ He decided to take matters into his own hands.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    If these mortals were unable to last for long because they were far from his aura, his vitality, then he¡¯d create proxies of himself. Gods able to spread his power amongst the stars, and keep one more mortal alive another day.

    Order thought that the story was rather tragic, but noble as well. A father trying to keep his sickly children alive, at any and all costs, to the extent that he would devote his life to finding and creating the perfect cure to death itself, to hurl himself at an unsolvable problem over and over again. The God of Life and Creation was truly worthy of his position as the greatest God.

    She stopped in front of the large metal door labelled Work, and tapped twice, a quick one-two. The muffled grating and grinding noises that had been continuing for the period that Order had been standing there for slowed, then stopped entirely.

    ¡°It is I, the God of Order and Knowledge.¡± The door swung open, and a man with a shaggy white mane answered. ¡°Ah, Order. Here for the usual, huh?¡± He smiled wearily and guided her into his quarters. Life towered over her, being around twice her height, which wasn¡¯t surprising, as he was the most powerful being on the divine plane of existence. And size of the vessel probably did translate to greater capacity.

    ¡°Here, you can lie down here while I work on this project¡± He sat down, cross-legged on the carpeted ground, patting his left thigh. Order sighed, then lay down on the floor next to him, head in his lap. It was futile to argue, as she had tried before.

    Previously, she had made a case that divine power transfer was more effective palm-to-palm. And time-efficient, too. It would take around 6 minutes for her entire reserves to be filled, compared to the 50-odd minutes that a single hand transference would require. Life¡¯s single refutation was that she was his daughter (in a manner of speaking), and she should simply lie down, and accept his love and care quietly.

    A bulletproof argument for Order, really, who deferred to structures of power and symbols of authority. And she did see herself and the other Gods as his children, so really, she had no way of getting out of this.

    Life stroked her brown hair with a palm, refueling her depleted reserves through contact. With his other hand, he grasped the suspended ball of what looked to be liquid meat and some sort of glowing white substance (that Order recognised as pure, solidified divine power) and spun it. The suspension began to mix, and the grating and grinding noises resumed.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying a new method out. Usually, I form the limbs and body separately, then combine them and inject the resulting fusion with as much power as it can take. The Gods formed that way were more durable, I suppose, but they lacked¡­ synergy? Compatibility? Anyways, they weren¡¯t able to hold much divine aura for long, which results in a God that has significantly less power than you children.¡± Life ruffled her hair.

    Order didn¡¯t mind this part of her daily trip. His explanations about his newest experiment were pure, unadulterated knowledge that she would never have been able to learn anywhere else. It was fresh, straight from the source, unbiased and unfiltered, and she loved learning about what made Gods tick from the perspective of one who had created so many. She wouldn¡¯t be able to replicate any of his experiments, of course, with her lacking divine battery. But the knowledge itself could be useful in any number of ways. Perhaps it might even solve this issue of hers one day.

    ¡°By combining them at the beginning, at inception,¡± Life continued. ¡°I believe that the body itself, infused and steeped in power, should replicate the conditions where you and I were born.¡± Then he smiled sadly.

    ¡°Or it might result in a lump of meat. Again.¡± He gestured to the right-most corner of the room where 8 lumps of slowly pulsating balls of meat lay, stacked on top of one another. Order hoped that they weren¡¯t sentient. They probably weren¡¯t, right?

    Life sighed once, a long and dreary exhale, as he continued to spin the mixture. The rest of the hour was spent in complete silence (other than the grating, that is), as Order lay there and patiently waited.

    Once she confirmed that her energies were fully refilled, she spoke up. ¡°Thank you once again for your assistance, God of Life and Creation. I will take my leave, as it appears you have much to do still.¡± The ball stopped spinning.

    ¡°Oh, you can stay a little longer, can¡¯t you? You¡¯re only going to interview the lesser Gods, right? Push one or two of them to tomorrow. It¡¯ll be fine. You have the rest of eternity to catch up with them.¡±

    Order knew for a fact that she was one of the scarce few Gods who still met with Life outside of the new-born lesser Gods, and he couldn¡¯t help but feel lonely, given that her interactions with him lasted a mere hour a day. But¡­ she had a schedule to follow.

    So despite being slightly swayed by his pleading tone of voice, she firmly refused. ¡°A thousand apologies, God of Life and Creation. But as you may be aware, outside of my appointments with them, lesser Gods may, at any point in time, be in another sector of the myriad of worlds that exist. I have to meet them at this specific point in time, or they may not be available for another decade or so.¡±

    Order gently lifted Life¡¯s large, wrinkled hand from her head, and placed it back on his thigh, getting up as she did so. ¡°But should I complete my tasks early today, I will endeavour to find time to spend with you.¡±

    The God of Life and Creation furrowed his brow for a moment, seeming to want to protest her explanation and subsequent cajolement, as she never had any time left over at the end of the day. But his creased brow straightened back out once again as he gave in to the flimsy excuse. ¡°Well, alright. Take care of yourself, OK? And let your sister know that I¡¯m still waiting for her to come by one of these days.¡± Order flinched. Right. Chaos was up next. She nodded in affirmation, and turned to leave the room.

    Standing on the path outside the silver Cube, Order struck off the next line in her notebook and grimaced once more as she read the next entry. Meeting with Chaos. Just get it over with, she muttered. How much irritation could a 45 minute talk even cause, anyway?

    The answer: a lot.

 Chapter 5

    When they were being assigned where their domains would be, Chaos was the first of the two siblings to pick where she would live. In fact, Order let her go first. So she could then pick a location that was on the exact opposite end of the Living Quarters. The less she would have to see Chaos, the better, a sentiment she shared with most other Gods, as their counterparts commanded roles that were the reverse of the other. Their antithesis, if you will.

    In terms of abodes, Chaos was rather similar to Order, in that her domain was rather small. However, while Order prioritized practicality, having a majority of her domain be underground rather than aboveground so that the resulting structure would not be an eyesore (and to skip out on toiling over exterior design), Chaos instead prioritized nothing.

    Her residence was simply a medium sized crater in the ground, with a bed in the middle and a toilet to the side. The extent of her entire home amounted to about a tenth of Truth¡¯s cathedral. More like a twelfth, really, if you wanted to be specific.

    She didn¡¯t stay in her own domain much anyways, often crashing with one God or another, so she decided on a whim that she didn¡¯t need that much space. Chaos, defined as unpredictability, disorder. It wasn¡¯t hard to see why she¡¯d deliberately disobey the unspoken rule that Gods were to keep to their own domains.

    Coming up on the crater, Order wondered if her sister would even be there. Order had let Chaos know beforehand that she was coming today, so she was probably at home. Probably.

    She came to the lip of the indentation where Chaos lived and glanced over the edge. Sure enough, lying down, one knee raised, on the solitary bed in the centre of the crater (Well, mostly centre anyways. It was about 50 centimetres diagonally off-centre, which Order swore Chaos had done just to piss her off) was the Goddess of Chaos herself. She was dressed in a red tank top and green shorts, wearing mismatched sneakers that were, for gods know what reason, yellow.

    There were so many things Order wanted to point out and correct at this moment. For starters, she looked like what the mortals of some long-dead civilisation would call a traffic light. A wonderful, logical piece of engineering that Order fancied greatly, as it was used to direct man and machine alike, maintaining harmony on those ancient roads. Not in the context of clothes, mind.

    Next, shoes in bed. I mean, they were even touching the bedsheets, soiling them. On top of all this, Order knew for a fact that Chaos didn¡¯t usually dress like this. She was definitely just playing up her ¡°chaos-ness¡±. To mess with her. Her usual attire was a similar robe to the one Order wore, with splotches of rainbow on a blue background.

    Order stepped over the edge and gingerly made her way over to the bed, one hand on the inclined slope to steady herself and keep from sliding. This place really needs proper walkways, Order thought. And staircases. And railings.

    Chaos had a small, black tablet in her left hand which she was wistfully swiping up on with her right index finger, her face the picture of boredom. Order recognised it as an entertainment device that the God of Technology and Advancement had previously recommended to the other Gods as a ¡°good way to pass the time¡±.

    Order had scoffed when he introduced it to her. As if she had any time to ¡°pass¡± when she was already so busy. She did, however, accept one to catalogue and preserve in her Library. From what she could tell, all it did was generate endless ¡°videos¡± (moving pictures, complete with sound) of a variety of baby lifeforms doing cute things. Utterly pointless and irrelevant. Which was probably why Chaos had one.

    As Order approached, Chaos noticed the visitor to her home and tore her eyes off the screen. Her bored look changed instantly when she recognised her sister, a large grin being plastered across her face.

    ¡°Oh hey, you¡¯re finally here Odor! I¡¯ve been here for hours! You know, you should really be more punctual if you¡¯re meeting someone¡­ It¡¯s bad manners to keep someone waiting, especially since you were the one to make the appointment.¡± Order¡¯s face immediately scrunched up. ¡°Order. My full title is the God of Ord-¡°

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, don¡¯t sweat-¡°(Chaos winks and raises two finger-guns at this point) ¡°-the small stuff. What¡¯cha want to talk about, sis?¡±

    ¡°I am not late, either. I am 4 minutes early to the agreed-upon ti-¡°

    ¡°Geez, put a cork in it, lady! Nooooo one cares! Let¡¯s get on with it already!¡± Order couldn¡¯t stand her. Just 2 minutes of being next to Chaos made her want to start hitting something. But, she rationalized, work is work. ¡°Goddess of Chaos, I, the God of Order and Knowledge would like to, as previously discussed, converse with you regarding the current happenings you are¡­ involved in.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I accept or whatever. Ok, let¡¯s see¡­¡± Chaos cupped her chin in mock contemplation.

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    ¡°Two days back I went to check out that one sparring match with War and Violence¡­ crashed at War¡¯s after he lost¡­ what a wimp¡­ then last week I replaced a quarter of the roses at Truth¡¯s place with dyed peonies¡­¡± (Order hadn¡¯t noticed, but she¡¯d restore them later)

    ¡°Swapped out a bunch of quartz crystals at Greed¡¯s place with glass a month or so back¡­¡± (Order was there for that, and it ate up nearly half the allocated time for the count that day tracking Chaos down)

    ¡°I guess you could sort of say that I was ¡°involved in¡± why the grass in the Central Plaza is currently a shade of light blue, but that wasn¡¯t on purpose. Just sort of happened.¡± (Order would worry about that later.)

    She proceeded to list another 15 shenanigans she had carried out. Which were more of the same, really; tiny things that would just barely qualify as disruptive, generally being more annoying than harmful.

    ¡°¡­oh, and I learnt how to juggle 3 things at a time! See?¡± Chaos demonstrated with three green balls she produced from nowhere, and began to toss them in the air one by one. Order ignored the artful display of hand-eye coordination as she jotted down notes in her brown book. ¡°I understand, but what I am referring to is something more substantial. Have there been any events where your abilities have disrupted the Gods in any way? Other than the minor mischief you¡¯ve described thus far, that is.¡±

    The reason why Order was even here in the first place was her ever-present concern for Chaos¡¯s ability. As her title implied, her presence increased the probability of unlikely things to happen. Well, other than things that she was intentionally and knowingly carrying out, anyways.

    Order theorized that there was the possibility that though slim, should Chaos be unable to control or curb her power in some way, it might build up to the point where it could impact the functioning of the divine realms, either by crippling the powers of the Gods that lived there, or perhaps by causing the erosion of the roots of power holding the place together.

    Gods gained divine energy from carrying out tasks aligned with their vocation. It was the exact reverse for Chaos, however. She was constantly fed divine energy from the innate disorder in the multiple dimensions of reality that existed, which meant that she had to release the surplus periodically, or the accumulation of chaotic energies and its eventual explosive eruption would likely lead to some improved, destructive form of the afore-mentioned ¡°unlikely things¡± taking place. Which Order did not want to test. At all.

    Luckily, her power had a form of release valve built in; should her reserves build up in excess for an extended period of time, it¡¯d select an object or individual around Chaos and vent out the surplus. Which was why the lawn of the Central Plaza was blue. Or why a couple of months back Time spoke with a squeaky voice three pitches higher than his usual register. And she probably had something to do with the Dimensional Wall becoming fully opaque a while back. The milky-white appearance it had slowly dissipated over the course of 3 days.

    ¡°Maybe War wouldn¡¯t have lost if I wasn¡¯t there?¡± Chaos frowned. ¡°That¡¯s a stretch though, I mean, Violence is jacked. Like, his muscles could fill half of Greed¡¯s domain. Stacked. No chance War would have won. Nada.¡± The frown was quickly replaced by the goofy grin Chaos had on before.

    ¡°Aw, don¡¯t get your junk in a funk, sis. It¡¯s been centuries and nothing absolutely irreversible or permanent has happened¡­ yet. Besides, I told you already, I¡¯ve learnt to adjust the flow myself, so if worse comes to worst, I¡¯ll just pop over to one of the uninhabited rocks in the Sea far from any life and open the floodgates. Easy peasy! Might even get a new species going. You¡¯re into that, right?¡±

    Her flippant, carefree attitude didn¡¯t much soothe Order¡¯s unease. ¡°But,¡± she supposed, ¡°I haven¡¯t heard anything from Truth about Chaos, so she¡¯s probably behaving.¡± Order closed her book and stashed it away. ¡°For your information, the God of Life and Creation requests your company once in a while. Perhaps you should visit soon.¡± ¡°Meh, okay. I¡¯m not doing much this week anyways. Mostly learning how to juggle four balls. And switching to knives.¡± She stopped juggling and returned the balls to her pocket. ¡°I¡¯ll go tomorrow. Maybe I¡¯ll lurk in the corner while he¡¯s petting you.¡±

    Order gave a curt nod in response. She ticked off the bullet points in her head. Good. All done. Time to disengage from this interaction. ¡°My¡­ thanks, Goddess of Chaos, for your assistance with my queries. I won¡¯t be disturbing you any further as it seems you have¡­ things to do. I¡¯ll take my leave of you now. My next check-in will be in two months¡¯ time.¡±

    ¡°K¡¯ sis, cya round! And take a bath once in a while, you kinda smell.¡±

    Order ignored the last teasing jab by her sister. She certainly did not smell.

 Chapter 6

    Order consulted her mental clock as she took brisk steps away from Chaos¡¯s hole in the ground. The first lesser God would arrive at the arranged location soon, so it would be best if she could pick up the pace. Plus, she wanted to drown out the recent meeting with Chaos with what she knew and loved best: updating records.

    She returned to the Central Plaza (ignoring the light blue lawn for now) and made a right turn towards the staircase leading down towards the Sea of Stars. Reaching the bottom where the last step ended, she hopped off it and onto the Dimensional Wall.

    The view was spectacular. At least, if you were a visitor who hadn¡¯t lived in the divine realm for hundreds of years. After all, one would look to be suspended in space, multi-colored celestial bodies glimmering and sparkling beneath your feet, an otherworldly display that any mortal would kill to experience.

    But, as Order was not one of those mortals, she simply marched across the transparent surface of the Wall towards the meeting place that was agreed upon. The Wall was, in her opinion, the most ideal spot to conduct these interviews.

    It was the entry point for all lesser Gods returning to the heavenly plane, for one, so there would be no time wasted. Plus, it was a solid surface for Order as an Original Existence. No need to set up a table. Another advantage. Last but not least, the invisible nature of the Wall meant that there would be no way that the interviewee would miss her. No need to go through the hassle of providing them with confusing directions that they might misinterpret.

    Order sat down cross-legged at the meeting spot. She could already spy the first lesser God floating up from below to meet her. The God of Slumber, according to her initial notes. A semi-transparent, pint-sized girl equipped with both nightcap and nightgown and clutching a soft bolster that was as big as she was, Slumber finally arrived in front of Order.

    ¡°Auuhh¡­¡± Slumber yawned. ¡°Nice to meet you, miss Order¡­¡± ¡°Likewise, God of Slumber. It is an honor to be in your presence. Shall we begin?¡±

    The dialogue was carried out as such: As the lesser Gods would slip through the ¡°floor¡± without external aid, Order would maintain physical contact with their skin for the entire duration of the exchange, often by grasping one of their hands or looping one of her arms around their shoulders. With her ability, she was able to temporarily expand her personal perception and understanding of the lesser God to the limited area around them, tricking reality into recognising them as true Gods for as long as they were in contact with Order by transmitting a constant flow of information into the fabric of the realm.

    This method was only possible due to Order¡¯s command over knowledge, something that other Gods were unlikely to be able to imitate. Other than Truth, of course, whose ability to show the true nature of all things could be similarly focused to achieve the same effect.

    The consumption rate of divine energy however, even taking into account the other characteristic of her power to fully understand any target she touched and limiting it as much as possible, was a couple notches above what Order normally used - in essence, there was a time limit for every interview, which she had to factor in based on the age and vocation of the interviewee. And well, yes, she could continue the discussion while the lesser God was incorporeal, but it wouldn¡¯t be good manners if she was the only one in a comfortable seating position.

    ¡°What would your divine ability be, if you had to describe it?¡± Order inquired. Best to cut to the chase. Time was ticking.

    ¡°Ohh, err¡­ I can, uh, bring mortals into the land of dreams at will¡­¡± Slumber paused to yawn again. ¡°As in¡­ I can make them sleep for as long as I want¡­ and at any time I want. Depending on¡­ auuh¡­ their constitution, of course. Some organisms don¡¯t actually sleep, so I can¡¯t really do anything to them¡­¡±

    ¡°Have you accomplished anything in the mortal realm that would be of interest to the divine realms? Specifically, with what the God of Life and Creation has tasked you with?¡±

    This question was more to gauge the progress of Life¡¯s experiment, to see if the lesser Gods were performing their implicit duties of infusion and enrichment.

    ¡°Um, I helped a looot of people get a good rest¡­ I guess¡­ I dunno if they lived longer¡­ but they probably felt¡­ better?¡± Slumber replied drowsily. ¡°It feels good to let your mind just¡­ drift away¡­ after all¡­¡±

    Order wrote down, ¡°Inconclusive, subject did not follow up¡±. She queried further. ¡°It seems that at this point in time, even awake, your state of consciousness hardly qualifies as being alert. Would this be a result of lacking divine energy reserves?¡±

    ¡°Ohh¡­ uhh¡­ no, actually. I think mister Life mentioned it to me before¡­ it¡¯s something to do with leaking? I have the capacity, but¡­ it¡¯s like there¡¯s a hole in the bottom of the container¡­ so it keeps coming out¡­¡± Order noted this down.

    She had figured it was something to do with that, since Slumber as a concept was almost universal: all beings had to recuperate at some point, which meant that she should be on par with Gods of Order¡¯s calibre, being constantly fuelled by the multitudes of mortals falling asleep at any one point in time.

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    Perhaps the constant trickle of divine energies out from her vessel might be collected in some form and utilized? Order bolded this point and underlined it twice. She¡¯d look into it at some point in time. ¡°Thank you for your input, God of Slumber. That will be all I require at the moment.¡± Order released Slumber¡¯s hand from her grasp. Almost immediately, her appearance returned to a translucent state as the divine realm once again rejected her form from materialising.

    ¡°Ohkaay¡­ you probably want me¡­ to let another God know to meet you¡­ right?¡± Slumber mumbled as she snuggled up against her body pillow, her right hand paddling through the air as she tried to keep level with Order without phasing through the ground. ¡°Two months¡­ from now¡­?¡±

    Order nodded. It was an inefficient way of communication, to say the least. Word-of-mouth, that is. But it was effective at grabbing the attention of lesser Gods that were tucked away in some obscure corner of the cosmos. It also helped that lesser Gods were on the same wavelength, being able to recognise one another despite not feeding massive amounts of divine power into the fabric of reality to maintain a material form.

    The latest interviewee would ask the next lesser God they came across in the mortal realm to meet Order at this place and time. Or¡­ if it was a God that Order had already met before, they would pass on the task of finding a new interviewee to that God instead, so on and so forth until eventually it reached the ears of someone she had yet to speak with.

    Slumber stopped treading imaginary water after confirming as such, and sluggishly waved as she slowly sunk through the floor towards the Sea of Stars. ¡°Byyeee¡­ miss Order¡­¡± Order watched for a while, reciprocating the gesture with what she determined to be the minimum length of time to hold the action of waving for it to just about qualify as being polite without being excessive.

    As the girl continued to drift away from Order¡¯s position, she returned to her notes in preparation for the next interview.

    The interviewees that came up next were much the same as her preliminary expectations: they were mainly fledgling lesser Gods, existing for just under two centuries. Their callings, too, left much to be desired. Swordsmanship, Carpentry and Games? All too reliant on the sustained and continued existence of civilisation, rather than being able to support them entirely. Life had much work to do, Order mused.

    It wasn¡¯t that those Gods didn¡¯t have the capacity; they probably had larger divine batteries than Order. But in exchange for prolonged vitality via proximity to their auras, what they received in return from the mortals was far too little. A drop in the ocean. It just wasn¡¯t sustainable to keep giving without any form of replenishment.

    What one acolyte would provide over the course of their short lives, would have been consumed in the provision of mere minutes of lifespan to the mortals that these Gods were looking over. Not to mention that these Gods regularly used power for themselves, too. They had to, if they wanted to travel from world to world as Life intended.

    Like the other tens of thousands of lesser Gods Order had conversed with in the past, while they had started off initially with great power, enough to extend the lives of millions of mortals tenfold, they soon realized in their first decade or so that any energy spent was gone for good. Any divine miracle they brought about in the mortal realm diminished their aura greatly, quickly cutting down the number of lives they could potentially save.

    It was also why these Gods returned to the divine plane once in a while; to replenish their reserves with Life¡¯s assistance. The fifth God though, Order considered. Adventure. He held some promise, to be sure. Anyone who was inspired to try something new, to venture into the unknown, would trickle back divine force to Adventure.

    And such ideas were infectious, so they spread quickly from individual to individual, especially if there were some merit or profit to be gained from carrying out that new idea. His energy consumption rates were much lower than other lesser Gods as well, given that the idea of adventure itself was something he didn¡¯t have to influence directly; mortals on every planet were constantly adapting to survive, competing and fighting for resources by growing and changing.

    A pity that there would need to be many Gods like him around for there to be any significant impact on the unceasing atrophy of mortal life. Slumber, too. If Life could correct the flaw in her design in future iterations, he might be able to achieve his goal of bringing great and lasting life to the mortal plane.

    Finally, Order closed her brown book. Then, with a long, drawn-out sigh, she turned around slowly to face the lesser God that had been floating quietly behind her for the entire day. Who had hid just outside Truth¡¯s domain during their chat. Who had peeked in from a dark corner while she was with Life. She had heard from Truth that he was a bit shy, and ¡°not to make any sudden movements¡± or she might spook him. Since, apparently, he was rather used to not being seen by his fellow Gods.

    ¡°Are you ready for your interview now, God of Stories and Creativity?¡±

 Chapter 7

    The God of Stories and Creativity was a fairly young lesser God. Around three decades old, in fact. He hadn¡¯t stuck around long after Life had finished injecting him with will and personality, ignoring the frantic calls behind him to wait as he swam away to explore the rest of the divine realms.

    Unlike his compatriots, outside of his name, Stories, (which Life had shouted at him a couple of times) he had not been told what he was created for. But, inquisitive as he was, he decided that he would infer his purpose from his experiences. How exciting.

    He learnt quickly enough that he was unable to touch or interact with anything in his surroundings. Neither could any godly individual that passed by see him. He even was able to phase past thick walls and walk through locked doors. A very strange trait for a God to have, he pondered.

    Ahhh, he deduced confidently, I¡¯m a voyeur! I¡¯m probably here to help that elderly gentleman keep an eye on his friends!

    Grinning smugly as he patted himself on the back on a mystery well-solved, he then proceeded to spend an entire two years stalking the denizens of the divine realms. This mistaken conclusion would only be corrected in year three of his life, by a chance meeting with the God of Truth and Honesty.

    Stories had just finished his week-long surveillance of the God of Greed (who mostly just stroked his gold and ate a lot, really) and decided that his next target would be the blindingly white structure that he had passed by earlier. He poked his head into the side of the wall to have a gander at what was inside¡­ when the resident within suddenly spoke up.

    ¡°Ooooh!¡± She had exclaimed. ¡°New God! You guys, like, don¡¯t usually stick around for this long¡­ What¡¯s wrong with¡¯cha, little buddy?¡±

    At the time, Stories had frozen in place, mouth gaping open and closed as he struggled to find the words to express his surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected to be noticed after this long, so his communication skills were a little lacking. After nervously glancing to his left and right to ensure that the lady dressed in a loud red-gold ensemble wasn¡¯t just staring at the wall for another unrelated reason (she wasn¡¯t), one word was all he could muster. ¡°¡­how?¡±

    ¡°Oh! You mean, how come I can, like, see you? That¡¯s easy! I¡¯m the God of Truth, so of course I can see you!¡± After another three hours of conversation, Truth finally realized the simple mistake that Stories had made. With a wide smile, she had then proceeded to drag Stories to the residence of the God of Life and Creation to get this little error sorted out.

    In contrast, Stories spent the entire trip wriggling in the firm grip Truth had clamped on his right arm and screaming in confusion (¡°HOW ARE YOU TOUCHING MEEEEE AAAAA¡±).

    Finally, after a brief but detailed explanation by Life, he was informed of his life¡¯s purpose! His raison d¡¯etre! Stories had proceeded to embark on his journey with gusto, excitement in his heart and joy on his face. He¡¯d be able to experience new things whilst spreading his stories amongst the stars, bringing happiness and fulfilment to all sorts of strange creatures, who would listen to his anecdotes with rapt attention!

    It would be hardly three months before Stories was back in the divine realms, his spirit broken and hopes dashed. He had tried to endure the task of being stationed in a single section of the mortal realm. Really, he did. But as it turns out, around 99 percent of the mortal realm was inhabited with unintelligent or underdeveloped lifeforms. That would not be able to understand the concept of a story. Stories had given it his best for those three months, jetting from world to world, looking for someone to regale with his tales. He even ranted at a particularly humanoid tree once, but it just didn¡¯t scratch the same itch.

    AND IT WAS BORING! Most planets were painted in a shade of black, brown or green. Hardly any variety. Not exactly inspiring for a self-proclaimed ¡°accomplished storyteller¡± to write about. Defeated, Stories returned to his home in the divine realms to consider his options. The task he was provided with was rather simple, but mind-numbingly boring in its execution. What, then, could he do about the situation?

    After two weeks of his usual surveillance (the habit had grown to be a source of comfort to him) interrupted occasionally by gossip sessions with Truth (¡°oooh, so you¡¯re saying Time¡¯s doing muscle training? How cute!¡±), he had come to an answer. A blindingly obvious one, in hindsight.

    If the mortals couldn¡¯t understand stories, all he needed to do¡­ was to teach them!

    Thus began another five years of futility, as the lesser God went from world to world, patiently giving lectures on story structure and the history of language to insects and animals that either stared blankly at him, or scampered off the moment he spoke. Back to the drawing board.

    Well, he pondered, what about my divine ability? At the moment, all he could do was materialize solid scrolls of divine energy that he could scribble his new ideas on. Which wasn¡¯t downplaying the usefulness of the ability, since these scrolls were solid enough to write on, and could be stored away easily simply by tossing them to the side, given that the parchment would lose tangibility the moment Stories stopped channelling his ability through it. Recalling these texts would then be as simple as reaching out into the subspace and grabbing hold of the relevant document.

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    If he could make parchment from divine energy, perhaps extruding the power in a different state might lead to a different result? He began his experiment with the large armadillo-like lifeforms on a distant planet. Activating his ability while touching one of their carapaces and taking care to prevent the usual parchment from taking shape, he watched with bated breath. What would happen if he injected a mortal creature with divine energy that was processed through his divine ability?

    And at first, nothing. After about five minutes or so of infusion, Stories had stepped back and observed the creature, who seemed slightly dazed for a moment, before curling up into a ball and rolling away.  Stories had sighed, ready to call the experiment another waste of time.

    On a whim, however, he decided that he would at least give it a day. Just to see what the scaly lifeform would do. And if nothing happened, no harm done. He¡¯d just return back home and think of another way to attack the problem.

    It was a stroke of luck that he did, as the next day, in a sea of armadillo grazing on all fours, there was one fully bipedal one, taking wobbling tentative steps. Stories watched on in amazement over the next few days as one bipedal armadillo became four, then eight, then sixteen until every single creature were walking steadily on twos. They had even begun simple vocalizations in the form of grunts that very clearly referred to actions or objects. Grunts that one might even call¡­ stories? A bit of a leap in logic, but Stories was too excited to worry about the small details.

    He had done it. He dubbed his new and improved ability, ¡°Divine Inspiration¡±. A magnificent title befitting the effects it had wrought. From what he could tell, a five minute channelling of godly energy, focused through the lens of his ability into one member of the species, had then jumped from one to another like a contagion, leading to an overall acceleration of intelligence that would have otherwise taken hundreds of years to develop.

    ¡°And that,¡± Stories smugly replied, taking a mock stage bow. ¡°is my story.¡±

    Order was genuinely amazed. From what she had heard from Truth during their tea sessions, Order had formed the impression that Stories was simply an unmotivated slacker, putting off his actual tasks in favour of entertaining her with a bunch of tales he had concocted in his free time.

    And a braggart, too, since he had appended ¡°Creativity¡± to the end of his name, when nothing implied that he deserved such a grandiose title. That Order could tell from the bits and pieces Truth told her, anyways.

    If what he had said was true, and Order had no reason to think otherwise, Stories had singlehandedly pioneered a new method to extend the lifespans of a mortal species: via advancing them to the next level of civilisation.

    ¡°Have you performed this experiment anywhere else? This could be the huge step forward that the God of Life and Creation has been searching for.¡± Order further emphasized the importance of this discovery.

    ¡°Oh, mademoiselle! What do you take me for, a fool? Of course I¡¯ve repeated this experiment a couple more times since!¡± The smugness present in his voice was nauseating, but Order pushed through to get to the meat of the story.

    ¡°I¡¯ve tried using ¡°Divine Inspiration¡± on a variety of organisms; insects, crustaceans, plants, rocks¡­ You get the idea. As far as I can tell, if it can hold a pen or make sounds with whatever orifice it possesses, my ability will be able to catapult them to that stage of intelligence!¡± Stories was now puffing up his chest and grinning arrogantly, his chin raised in pride.

    Order continued to hastily scribble down her thoughts on this new discovery. So divine energy could be used in this way as well¡­ was this limited to abilities possessed by Gods? Would there be any difference if multiple Gods used their abilities in concert on the same lifeform? Did such an action provide the lifeform with the equivalent life force that the general scattering of divine energy into the atmosphere would have brought otherwise?

    She underlined Stories¡¯ name again. It could be that the filtering of the energy through the sieve that was a lesser God was the key¡­ and specifically that his ability allowed him finer control over the output of energy than other Original Existences. Showering a single organism with a torrent of power over that short a period of time would otherwise cause them to disintegrate, after all, while too little would be the same as what lesser Gods were already doing.

    Also, would the God¡¯s calling affect the nature of the infusion? Chaos probably could perform a similar feat, but perhaps it might work by different rules? The concept of stories was deeply intertwined with intelligence and expression, after all. It doesn¡¯t matter, Order decided, Life would be delighted to hear about this. After so long, finally.

    A glimmer of hope in the darkness of failure.

 Chapter 8

    Stories hadn¡¯t followed her to Life¡¯s place. (¡°I¡¯m a free spirit, m¡¯am! You can¡¯t keep me down!¡±) She did try grabbing him by his ankle, but decades of training with Truth had honed his senses and skills enough to keep just out of her reach even as she hopped and flailed at his floating body. No matter, the specifics she required were already written down. More efficient that she do it herself, distilling the information down into the main points, rather than have the annoying gnat embellish and ramble about unrelated tangents.

    So with a hurried ¡°thank you for your time¡±, she had extracted herself from the meeting and was currently sprinting towards the Cube. (Stories was drifting amusedly behind her, even despite his initial protests. He wasn¡¯t about to enter with her, of course. That would be silly. He¡¯d just float outside and watch the spectacle from a front row seat. Namely, by sticking his head in from the side.)

    She banged on the gate frantically, a loud clanging issuing from the assault. ¡°¡­ok, ok I¡¯m coming,¡± A faint voice came from inside, and Death¡¯s gaunt figure soon emerged. ¡°Order? Why have you returned? Do you need another top-up from Life?¡±

    ¡°My greetings, God of Death and Taxes. I may not have scheduled an appointment at this hour, but I believe I have come across vital data that would propel the research that the God of Life and Creation is currently engaged in. Please, may I enter and convey this to him?¡± The words tumbled out of her mouth as quickly as she could form them.

    Death probably hadn¡¯t seen her so frantic before, so the look on his face was one of mild surprise. But this didn¡¯t stop him from undoing the latch on the gate and letting her pass. ¡°Same place as this morning.¡± He offered, closing the gate behind her.

    She expressed her gratitude with a curt nod, then briskly stepped towards the workshop at the far end of the room. She was about to pound at the door like she had done earlier, before she caught herself. Decorum. Order inhaled deeply to calm herself, then let the breath out all at once. After confirming that her breathing was less of a ragged pant, she proceeded to knock thrice on the dull metal surface.

    After a beat, the door swung open. ¡°What is it, Death? Do you need me for someth- oh! What a pleasant surprise, Order! Have you returned to spend some time with me?¡± Life smiled merrily at his daughter. She must have changed her mind, he mused. Perhaps what she had said previously wasn¡¯t an excuse after all.

    ¡°Apologies, God of Life and Creation. But this isn¡¯t a social call. During my discussion with the God of Stories and Creativity, I chanced upon what I believe to be the key to what you¡¯ve been working on for all this time. The solution to the extension of mortal lifespans.¡±

    The elder God paused, smile fading into a solemn expression. ¡°Elaborate please, dear.¡±

    Order entered the room, tearing a blank page from her notebook and placing it on a side-table that was flush against the wall. ¡°As you know,¡± she began to draw as Life watched on. ¡°All lesser Gods that you¡¯ve created thus far, including the other Original Existences like me and you, emit a low level of godly power at all times.¡± She started to add squiggly lines around the crude stick figure she had drawn. ¡°This would be what prolongs the lives of mortals, a life-bringing aura that confers onto them increased strength, resistance to adverse conditions and vitality in general.¡±

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve learnt from my interaction with the God of Stories and Creativity, through direct injection of his divine energy through the medium of his ability,¡± Order added more squiggles to the arms of the stick figure. ¡°he has succeeded in accelerating the intelligence of eighteen entire mortal species in the span of two decades! The infusion of intelligence was passed on from the initial target lifeform to those that it came into contact with, spreading like wildfire in a forest - until the entire generation was similarly improved! It may not be exactly what you envisioned, but should this avenue of evolution not be explored?¡±

    The grim visage Life was displaying softened after Order finished her animated presentation, and his usual weary, apologetic smile returned. ¡°No, that wouldn¡¯t work, Order. But thank you for trying to help. I very much appreciate the gesture.¡±

    Order didn¡¯t understand. ¡°Are you not going to at least try? Would this not be a different route to your end-goal to create longer-lived mortals?¡± Life gently took the pen from Order, and began to write next to her illustration.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already tried this before. Well, an iteration of this, anyways. Firstly,¡± he underlined the heading of the table he had created and proceeded to add bullet points underneath it. ¡°this method is reliant on the nature of the God in question. See, power filtered through the abilities of a God whose nature is related so closely to intelligence, like young Stories, would have significantly different effects compared to, say, if Greed did it, for example. The power would twist and corrupt the lifeform and in turn the whole species, influencing them to have personalities similar to the donor God.¡± Life doodled a pile of gold coins next to the stick figure and added a smirk to its face.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°With how some Gods are, it would be safe to assume that repeating what young Stories has achieved might not have the desired, positive effect. It might even be detrimental to their survival.¡±

    ¡°So why not simply create Gods with the main purpose of nourishment, then? Gods of Life? Clones of yours truly? After all, what better way to build a house than with experienced house-builders?¡± Life chuckled. ¡°Ah, but I tried that, too. Which brings us to the second point.¡± He started another bullet point.

    ¡°Point number two: the fabric of reality itself restricts the creation of Gods of the same calling. Just doesn¡¯t work; the stronger, more established God simply saps away the divine energy from the new-born God until they are subsumed.¡±

    ¡°There are exceptions to this rule, of course. Tangentially similar Gods, like your brothers, War and Violence.¡± Life conceded. ¡°But those two could be considered outliers. The Original Existences were forged at a point in time where no challenge to their survival existed. In that un-replicable scenario, twins of similar callings could be born.¡±

    ¡°Finally,¡± Life added a third black dot underneath the second. ¡°point number three. The advancement itself. As you¡¯ve mentioned yourself, the results of Stories¡¯ experiments were that the species grew more quickly. Leapfrogged into sentience. But given enough time, any of those species could have potentially reached that stage of civilisation: all he did was move forward the timeline. If anything, they would now be closer to their eventual expiration. You have to understand, all advanced societies end not because they were underdeveloped; but because they progressed at a pace that their environment could not support.¡± Life passed the paper back to Order. She read the heading. Barriers to Success. Three words that deflated all the excitement she had.

    Order felt dejected. What she had thought to be a crucial missing puzzle piece was nothing more than scrap that had already been considered and thrown out. Utterly inefficient garbage that only served to waste time. Life placed a large, warm palm onto her shoulder to comfort her. ¡°Come on, cheer up, Order. It wasn¡¯t a bad guess. You just haven¡¯t been doing this as long as I have. You formed a flawed thesis based on incomplete information. That¡¯s not your fault, is it?¡±

    Hold on, she thought. What was that? Incomplete information?

    She could just about make out a wisp of the path she needed to take. It was an immaterial abstraction, barely anything at all to grasp, but she reached out anyway, and clasped the tiny thread of logic in her hands.

    ¡°If I¡¯m understanding this right, God of Life and Creation, all that stands in the way of my theory¡­¡± She raised the piece of paper in her hands. ¡°¡­are three simple barriers. If I am able to disprove, defeat, or otherwise bypass these arguments, my theory would be viable?¡±

    Life looked on bemusedly, and spoke. ¡°Order, I see where you¡¯re going with this and I¡¯ll say this first: I¡¯m not going to stop you. In fact, I couldn¡¯t be more grateful that you¡¯re devoting your precious time to this long-time worry of mine at all. But, you have to understand: I¡¯ve been doing this for hundreds of years ¨C if you want to overcome those three issues, you¡¯re bumping up against what, four or five centuries worth of trial and error? Who knows, it might even be impossible to solve these problems in the first place! Knowing all this, are you still willing to walk down that thorny, unforgiving road?¡±

    Gotcha, she thought, hiding the wry smile that had crept onto her face with a bow. ¡°God of Life and Creation, it would be my honour and great pleasure to be given the chance to review your work. With your permission, I will walk down any path that may have been abandoned prematurely and see it to its conclusion ¨C no matter the barriers or thorns in my way.¡±

    ¡°Oh ho!¡± Life was guffawing now, thumping her on the back with an encouraging palm. ¡°My daughter wants to prove me wrong, eh? You¡¯ve grown up well, haven¡¯t you?¡± Life transitioned from striking her back to ruffling her chestnut hair.

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t be much of a father if I stopped you now, would I? Go right ahead! You have my full and unconditional support. With your brains, I hope I can expect you to have this small concern of mine wrapped up by the end of the decade. Don¡¯t disappoint me, alright?¡±

    ¡°I will endeavour to live up to your expectations of me.¡± Order replied, head still bowed. It was the first time in the long period of her existence that she was unable to suppress the grin on her face. To suppress her emotions, and maintain a neutral countenance.

    Finally, something juicy to sink her jaws into.

 Chapter 9

    The God of Stories and Creativity had flitted back over to the entrance after the conversation between the two Gods concluded, waiting eagerly to ambush Order as she exited the Cube.

    ¡°Sooo¡­¡± He spoke, wafting along next to her. ¡°I heard what the two of you grown-ups were talking about. Big words for a lady of your stature. How are you going to solve a riddle that even old man Life can¡¯t solve, hm? Sounds like you¡¯re going to have to really rack that big brain of yours, eh?¡±

    No reply.

    Stories continued with his attempt to provoke a response. ¡°Oh, maybe you¡¯re planning to go on a quest and such? A little adventure of sorts?¡±

    Still no answer.

    ¡°Helloooo? Are you listening, lady? I¡¯m right here, you know? It¡¯s kind of rude to ignore someone talking to you. Aren¡¯t you all about manners and all that stuff?¡±

    In her defence, Order had been completely lost in thought as she walked briskly in the direction of her log cabin. On auto-pilot, if you would. The most compelling, thought-provoking puzzle had just fallen into her lap, so it was understandable that she was currently devoting every ounce of processing power to the problem at hand.

    Order finally perked up after she caught the word ¡°manners¡± being said somewhere in her vicinity. Looking up, she spotted a slightly frustrated God floating to her left, arms crossed in mild annoyance at being ignored for so long.

    ¡°Oh splendid, you¡¯re still here. I had assumed that I would need to search for you after my preparations. I will require you to follow me, God of Stories and Creativity. We have a mystery to unravel.¡±

    ¡°Why is it that you immediately assume that I¡¯m going to be coming along on your little escapade? Do you think I¡¯m a pushover?¡± (She did think that, yes. Scarce evidence to the contrary, in fact.)

    ¡°I¡¯m a very busy God, OK? I don¡¯t have the time to waste, going on a detour with a boring girl like you! I have people to shadow! Events to, uh¡­ spectate!¡±

    ¡°There are a number of reasons why you will eventually accompany me.¡± Order started to count off her fingers. ¡°To list a few; this ¡°detour¡± as you¡¯ve described it, is intended to solve an age-old question, one that was composed at the same instant the very first molecule of mortal flesh winked into being. The sheer history behind it, the God of Life and Creation struggling to hold back the inevitable fate of mortal death¡­ Do you not think that it would serve as excellent material for you to write about?¡±

    Stories quizzically raised one eyebrow. ¡°Go on¡­¡±

    ¡°As the pioneer behind the creation of this new method of infusion, I will require you to be at hand to demonstrate the mechanism, should I need to replicate it with other Gods.¡±

    ¡°Not my problem¡­ but I see your point. Continue.¡±

    ¡°I would also like to point out that this issue, is your life¡¯s calling. Literally. The only purpose for your existence is so that you, along with the entire collection of your peers, can serve as proxies for Life to extend the lifespans of those less fortunate.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, but ouch, man. That kinda stings. Don¡¯t boil down my accomplishments into a single sentence, thank you very much.¡±

    ¡°If we manage to solve this enigma, you¡¯ll have as much time as you want to pursue whatever your heart desires. You¡¯ll be free from the shackles of your task. And besides,¡± Order smirked. ¡°¡­it isn¡¯t like you have anything important to attend to, do you?¡±

    ¡°Well, I never! What an affront to my personage! In fact, I have half a mind to just up and leave you right now for that offense!¡± Stories huffed in mock indignation. He was, of course, just playing up his reaction to that last playful jab by Order. Point number one was already sufficient enough to persuade him to accept her offer. It would be a treasure trove of new ideas. New avenues of storytelling. He¡¯d be a fool to decline.

    He did have a dignity to uphold, though. ¡°But since you¡¯re on your knees, begging and bawling in front of me with such a tearful, pained voice¡­ I suppose I could wrench myself away from my surveillance activities for a year or two. A decade, at max. Three decades, if you really wanted to push it.¡±

    Nailed it.

    Order had, however, mostly tuned him out at this point, so the impromptu play went unnoticed. She pushed through the door to her bedroom and went straight for the bedside cabinet. Opening the cabinet and reaching inside with one arm, she felt around the back till her fingers caught onto a small indentation. She proceeded to apply pressure, pressing down until she heard the mechanism click.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Shortly after, a small square of previously inanimate wooden flooring to the side of the cabinet was revealed to be not so inanimate, groaning open and revealing a set of stairs leading downwards.

    ¡°As you can see, this would be the usual entrance to my Library. However, I believe that the information likely won¡¯t be relevant to your circumstances. You know, because¡­¡± Order said, gesturing vaguely at Stories and his very apparent intangibility. ¡°¡­of everything. Still, good to know in case you ever become solid for one reason or the other.¡± She unlaced her boots and deposited it into the cabinet, shutting the door.

    ¡°You know, you mentioned it was a library, but you didn¡¯t really say what it ¡°librar-ries¡±. What, you have a bunch of books about rulers and dictionaries and stuff?¡±

    Order stopped and stared in disbelief at the clueless, floating apparition. ¡°You¡­ really have no idea?¡± He shook his head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you converse with the God of Truth and Honesty on a regular basis?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but we don¡¯t talk about you. I mean, the few times miss Truth even mentioned you, it was all things like ¡°Ooh, Order¡¯s out counting sheep again¡±, or ¡°Order went to redo the announcements board in the Plaza and now it¡¯s all straight and pretty!¡±. Boring drivel.¡± Stories snorted as he recalled the chats he had with Truth.

    Order stifled a smirk as she started down the flight of stairs. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll see. In any case, we¡¯ve almost arrived, so you can judge for yourself if my collection is up to par with your standards.¡± She grasped the brass doorknob and turned.

    ¡°WHAT.¡±

    ¡°THE.¡±

    ¡°CRAP?!¡±

    As the door swung open, the glorious form of the Library of Records was revealed to the lesser God. Rows on rows of filled bookshelves, neatly stacked and labelled. Soft carpeting covered the floor, muffling steps and providing a pleasant texture for bare feet to tread upon.

    Lighting was provided by glowing light grey balls of solidified divine energy suspended above the bookshelves in periodic intervals, the tinged glow providing a sombre, serious atmosphere to the library. Courtesy of Death, of course, on Order¡¯s request. He was there on excavation duty anyway, and Order decided that it would be more efficient to ask for his help to dot each level with a couple spheres of divine energy rather than drag Life away from his important research just because she wanted a different aesthetic.

    Besides, the priority was visibility; she¡¯d have been fine with even pink lights if she were still able to read or write under those conditions.

    Finally, a massive, circular abyss (with proper railings, of course. Order wasn¡¯t a savage.) lay in the centre of the panopticon of literature, within which Stories could make out countless more floors of bookshelves following the one they were currently on. Books on books on books. Books as far as the eye could see. Scrolls, paperbacks, hardbacks, carvings on tablets; the whole range.

    When he had finally recovered from the initial shock, he mumbled under his breath, ¡°¡­ok, so not a couple of dictionaries, then.¡±

    ¡°¡­all these books are about different topics? You haven¡¯t just¡­ copied a bunch of the same books just to fill out the shelves, have you? There has to be like, millions of books here!¡± Stories had started to swim from bookshelf to bookshelf, checking the label on each one in awe.

    Order grinned. She¡¯d brought a few other Gods to her Library before, but none had expressed such uncontrolled excitement and shock when they were first greeted with the scale of it all. Truth, for example, sort of just went, ¡°Wooow¡­ coolio¡­¡±, then traipsed off looking for a place to sit so they could have their t¨ºte-¨¤-t¨ºte.

    ¡°I COULD READ FOR CENTURIES HERE! LOOK AT THE BOOKS! SO MUCH MATERIAL! SO MUCH DATA! AHA HA HA!¡±

    Ok, maybe it was time to drag him back to the task at hand. Order cleared her throat loudly to get his attention. Stories spun around in the air to face her, his face still frozen in a manic grin.

    Then, with the flourish and flair that she felt it deserved, she spread her arms wide.

    ¡°Welcome, God of Stories and Creativity. To my Library of Records.¡±

 Chapter 10

    ¡°Alright, alright, I¡¯m listening, see? You don¡¯t have to keep grabbing me like that! C¡¯mon, let go already¡­ I said I was sorry, ok? It was a very impressive declaration! Ow ow ow it¡¯s gonna come off let go please¡± The God of Stories and Creativity was currently wriggling frantically, trying to break free from the grip on his ankle the God of Order had as she strolled towards the elevator.

    It was well deserved, though. After her grand declaration, the twerp had the nerve to feign a clap of mock appreciation (¡°much wow, very cool.¡±), before promptly returning to scanning the shelves for something good to read. He was so engrossed that he hadn¡¯t even noticed that Order had wrapped her palm around his right ankle until he was unceremoniously yanked along as she walked off.

    Entering the elevator, hand still clutching the God-balloon, Order stabbed the very last button. Floor 428; the records for the most recent Gods she had encountered. Surely she¡¯d find a suitable God to serve as a contributor for her experiment. As the box began its descent, Order finally released her ability, and her hand passed through the ghostly form of Stories once more.

    The young god grumbled, pretending to smooth out a crease on the very obviously un-creased leg of his beige pants. ¡°Ugh, took you long enough.¡± He floated down next to her and asked, ¡°So, there were three barriers, right? Which one are you going to go for first?¡± Order retrieved the paper that Life had written on and unfolded it, prompting Stories to lean in to read the words. She tapped on the first bullet point with her finger.

    ¡°I believe that if we are able to locate a God that is able to fulfil the conditions of the first obstacle, the other two barriers should be rendered irrelevant. To explain it simply, if we could infect mortals with contagious vitality right from the get-go, hopefully with minimal side-effects, we would not require a copy of the God of Life and Creation; nor would we need to worry about the transference accelerating the timeline on their demise.¡±

    ¡°See,¡± Stories frowned. ¡°That¡¯s what I don¡¯t get. Why not just have the God of Life and Creation help out with our experiment? Wouldn¡¯t the simplest way to test your theory be to have the big man himself attempt what I¡¯ve already proved is possible? His ability is pure life, right? Creation and whatnot? Just have him pop out once to the nearest planet, touch a rabbit or two and poof! Problem solved. We wouldn¡¯t need a copy when we have the real McCoy, and he literally fits the bill for willing donor God that definitely wouldn¡¯t corrupt any of the subjects he influences. Heck, mortals exist because of the radiation from the godly emissions when he was born! Match made in heaven, if you ask me.¡±

    Order pondered for a moment. True, what Stories was saying made a modicum of sense. But she was hard-pressed to agree; if it were that simple, Life would have went along with her suggestion in the first place.

    So, being the nit-picky fuss that she was, Order started to rattle off a couple of rationalizations on why Life wouldn¡¯t be the ideal candidate for the test, based on nothing but conjecture and the belief that her father would not make an elementary mistake like that.

    ¡°Well, I presume the God of Life and Creation would have already tried something like this himself in the early stages of his experiments and subsequently failed in some way, or he wouldn¡¯t still be pumping out lesser Gods to this day. Perhaps he is unable to adjust the output of his ability like you can? Life in excess can become harmful too; maybe his subjects would grow large cancers all over their bodies, and the trade-off to a long life might have been one with a greatly diminished quality? It could even be that the output from his ability was so strong, it obliterated everyone he-¡°

    ¡°Geez, OK, I get it. The big man can do no wrong, blah blah blah, he¡¯s one step ahead of everyone else. Let¡¯s move on. Let¡¯s talk battle plan: what are you going to do about the first barrier, then?¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s precisely where we¡¯re heading. The lowest floors of the Library are dedicated to every lesser God that I¡¯ve ever conversed with. I don¡¯t remember every single one of them, but I¡¯m fairly certain that at least a few of them have potential worth pursuing. Ah, we¡¯ve arrived.¡± The elevator doors slid open, a pleasant ding issuing from the interior indicating that the lift was at its target floor.

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    Order exited the metal box and started to browse the nearest bookshelf, examining the spine of each book with a furrowed brow. ¡°God of Drawings, God of Friendship, God of Weapons, God of Weather¡­ This could take a while.¡± She turned to face Stories. ¡°You take the opposite aisle; if the God mentioned sounds even remotely related to lifespan, you bring it to me. Ok?¡±

    ¡°Aye aye, boss¡­ whatever you say¡­¡± The unenthusiastic reply came as the lesser God drifted off to carry out the task.

    Over the next three hours, the two Gods scoured every corner of the massive floor, taking books from the shelves and rifling through their pages, before laying them in a pile on the table in the far end of the room. ¡°Ok, that should be all of them for this floor. Hopefully these should be enough, or we might need to go to the next floor.¡±

    Order sorted through the small but sizable pile, removing those from Stories¡¯ selection she felt didn¡¯t quite match up to the criterion.

    Instead of helping, however, the latter God was picking up each of the rejects and protesting their exclusion. ¡°Oh come on, God of Cuisine¡¯s a good one! If all of them want to dine like Gods, they¡¯ll start eating better. Better food, longer lives! And God of Exercise too; working out gives stronger bodies, therefore: longer lifespan! You¡¯re throwing out pure gold here! Gold, I tell you! Gold!¡±

    ¡°Diet and exercise alone aren¡¯t going to give these mortals century-long lifespans. These should suffice as a starting point for now.¡± Order separated three tomes from the stack. The Gods of Survival, Renewal and Adaptability.

    ¡°¡­still think my suggestions were fine¡­ ugh, whatever. So, these three, then? Are we going to go look for them now? They could be anywhere! It could be decades before they even pop up again!¡±

    Order shook her head. ¡°That would be highly inefficient. With only the two of us, systematically searching the sprawling sectors of the Sea of Stars would be a futile endeavour. Besides, only you can pass through the Dimensional Wall; it would be more accurate to say that you¡¯d be a search party of one. No, no, we¡¯ll use this.¡±

    She tapped a device on her belt, a small black box with a rubber grip. ¡°Aura scanner. At every one of my meetings with lesser Gods, I take a small sample of their life force signature and spread it over the relevant book. This way, if I ever need to speak with them again regarding this or that, I can ask my next interviewee to bring them back to the divine realms.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an invasion of privacy!¡± (A bit rich coming from you, Order thought.) ¡°How come I¡¯ve never heard of this magical tool before?! That¡¯s outrageous! How does it work? Can I borrow it sometime?¡±

    Order sighed. Ignoring Stories¡¯ outburst, she removed the device from her belt and waved it across the covers of the three books in order. The box whirred to life, calculating. After a beat, neon green letters started to display on the screen.

    ¡°Ok, the three of them haven¡¯t gone far. The God of Renewal is the closest; Genesis 3.¡± After thumbing a tab on the side of the box to bring up the tracking function, she handed the device over to Stories, who proceeded to stare at her outstretched hand with mild confusion.

    ¡°What? Why are you giving it to me? You go do it. It¡¯s your experiment, not mine.¡±

    She looked incredulously at him. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear what I just said? Of course you¡¯re going; I can¡¯t leave the divine realms, remember?¡±

    Order forced the box into his hands. ¡°It¡¯s simple, just follow the arrow and you¡¯ll get there in no time at all; three days, tops.¡±

    ¡°THREE DAYS?! You¡¯re kidding me! I could write a whole report on thirty-five of Love¡¯s new bedroom escapades in three days! And the other two ¡®test subjects¡¯ might have gone further in while we¡¯re talking to Renewal! Sweeten the deal. You gotta give me something here, man.¡±

    ¡°Fine. You can have the aura scanner after we¡¯re done here. I can get another one made at the God of Technology and Advancement¡¯s place later.¡±

    His eyes lit up instantly, drooling at the metaphorical carrot being dangled over his head, all gripes forgotten.

    ¡°Ooh. Ok, one God of Renewal, coming right up!¡± Stories vanished downwards, phasing through the ground.

    Materialistic and reward-oriented, Order thought. Couldn¡¯t he see the bigger picture? She was trying to help him, for heaven¡¯s sake. She sighed again.

    Was it really going to be fine working with someone like him?

 Chapter 11

    While Stories was out on his entirely voluntary errand to retrieve the God of Renewal, Order decided to do some mild re-ordering of her schedules. Which mainly involved tossing out every plan she had made previously. After all, this experiment was going to take a long, long time. Best to keep all those interviews and other such appointments on hold for now.

    Retrieving a white standing sign from the resource cabinet present on every floor, she scribbled with a black marker, ¡°INTERVIEW CANCELLED, RETURN IN A DECADE¡¯S TIME¡±, on its front.

    That¡¯d have to do; she wasn¡¯t about to station herself on the Dimensional Wall for the entire length of her experiment just so she could turn people away. It¡¯d interfere with her focus; what if she fumbled a crucial line of thought because some lesser God tapped her on the shoulder while she was concentrating?

    ¡­or maybe she could get a God to sub for her? Nah, they¡¯d have to be coached on how to take notes to her liking. And they wouldn¡¯t be able to see the interviewees anyways in the first place¡­ Unless she got Truth to do it?

    An image of the carefree God floated up in front of Order. She briefly imagined the cheerful girl greeting a lesser God and hugging them, then proceeding to spend hours on a single candidate as they engaged in lively banter about the planets that the latter God had come across. All the while with an angry mob of the other interviewees slowly building up in a line behind the first. Order quickly shook her head to banish the thought.

    She didn¡¯t want to be responsible for Truth¡¯s violent and painful demise at the hands of her juniors.

    No, no, the sign was good enough. Only Order herself could carry out these interviews. The data wouldn¡¯t be reliable otherwise.

    ¡°Alright, that settles that for the interviews. Oh, I should drop Truth a message about this too, or she might end up wondering where I¡¯ve gotten to when our next session rolls around.¡± Order muttered as she ran through the relevant appointments in her mind. ¡°And¡­ as for Chaos¡­ I¡¯ll just get Stories to do it when he gets back.¡±

    He owed her, anyways. For the aura scanner.

    ¡°Probably can leave Greed in¡­ the count doesn¡¯t take that long. Plus, mindless busy-work allows me to collect my thoughts.¡± It¡¯d be like resetting her mind-set, she reasoned. A blank slate to start off the work day. Help reorient her perspective and approach the problem from a different angle.

    Definitely not because she was addicted, or anything. She could stop any time she wanted.

    After a quick stop by Truth¡¯s to pass on the news about what was going on, Order went to place the sign at the interview spot on the Dimensional Wall, weighing it down with a rock to ensure it didn¡¯t topple over while she wasn¡¯t there. She stepped back and squinted, framing the white sign with open palms. You could probably see that from a distance, right?

    Finally, (after sparing some divine energy to restore the Plaza grass to their original lush green shade), it was time for bed.

    Flopping onto the soft cotton duvet, Order rolled over onto her back and raised her notebook up to her face. Leaning against a propped up pillow, she flipped to her initial thoughts on the experiment and doodled a few idle comments in the margins. Three days till commencement. It was her time to shine; to prove herself by doing what even the God of Life and Creation himself could not, and claim a spot next to him as one of the most respected Gods in the entire divine realm.

    She couldn¡¯t wait.

    The next three days were spent entirely in the Library of Records, with Order working feverishly on the preparations for the test as she awaited Stories and their honored guest. Well, it wasn¡¯t like she had anywhere else to be for the next decade.

    With the entirety of the observations on Renewal and accounts of her involvement in planetary events splayed out on the table, Order systematically went through and highlighted everything she felt might be relevant to her goal.

    The God of Renewal was a lesser God in charge of the concept of cycles. Destruction and rebirth, the dead returning to the earth, new life sprouting from their corpses; stuff like that. And her innate ability was precisely to control that cycle: she could revert an organism or object to earlier stages of its life to heal its wounds, or even wind back the progression of disease in sick animals. Perfect for keeping mortals alive.

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    However, the downside to such a powerful ability was the same as other Gods like her, Order included; the energy consumption required. As Order¡¯s notes stated, Renewal was only able to utilise her ability around four times at full capacity. After that, she¡¯d be running on fumes, and would need to return to Life to refuel. It was also why she didn¡¯t fire it off with reckless abandon on every wounded creature she met. Her duty was to broadcast a wave of scattered divine energy over the whole planet; not focus it into a single mortal.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s alright. We won¡¯t be too far from Life at any one given point in time. If absolutely necessary, I could tentatively transfer some of my divine energy reserves to power her ability.¡±

    The experiment was set to take place within the confines of the Dimensional Wall, after all. It was the only way the project leader (Order) would be able to observe the results and tweak the variables to adjust for unforeseen circumstances.

    There were around a million or so inhabited planets that fit the criteria Order was looking for, mostly those that dotted the edges of the Wall most distant from the divine realms proper, while still accessible to the Gods that were unable to leave the cage that was the divine realms.

    She wanted underdeveloped, unintelligent, fledgling species that were fragile enough to perish within four decades; lifeforms that needed their helping hand the most. Lifeforms that no one would miss - unimportant mortals.

    So, after a trip to floor 223 (Planets within Dimensional Wall) and back, Order had her testing grounds. Sector designation Blessed 903, 1503 and 2096. One for each of the scheduled Gods.

    Next, she started to list down the native species for each of the planets - their characteristics, behaviour, their appearances while either at an infant state or fully matured, and in what biome could they most easily be found in. Details to ensure that the experiment would be smoothly carried out in an efficient and effective manner. It had to be perfect.

    With that done, Order returned to the star map to confirm the selected planets, drawing up the fastest routes to each destination from their start point in the Library. Then she paused, pen still hovering over the circled planets. Another thought had occurred to her.

    Three probably wasn¡¯t enough. What if some vital variable went missing before they could begin, or the results led to total annihilation of the initial test species? In that case, she¡¯d need a couple more samples; just to confirm that the results weren¡¯t some fluke, thrown off by an unlikely occurrence. Best to select a few more as a buffer, so the flow of the experiment wouldn¡¯t be interrupted by having to search through a bunch of star maps again.

    And she was certain: her theory would work. The logic was sound. She would make it work.

    So Order circled a range of inhabited planets from ten thousand to twenty thousand. A bit out of the way so it¡¯d be a touch irritating if she¡¯d had to travel to and fro, but not impossible by any stretch of imagination. Back-up sites. Redundancies.

    Order didn¡¯t like planning for failure. She never had to; in her entire six centuries of life, she¡¯d only been pitched slowballs: she¡¯d only absorb information, not produce it. She was never on the side of the trailblazers, only part of the spectators. What was the point of knowledge if you never get to use it?

    This experiment would change all that. Baby bird¡¯s first flight. And Order was determined to make it succeed, no matter what it took. No matter who it took.

    Hopefully the extra planets wouldn¡¯t have to be used. But if they had to be¡­ for the greater good, right?

    There was no one present next to Order to correct this rather chilling line of thought. To steer her away from the abyss. She had good intentions, of that one could be certain; but her planned methodology was abhorrent and utterly inhumane, with no regard for the mortals she was about to carry out these untested theories on.

    But there was no one there to stop her.

    So this foul seed was left to fester, and rot further; until the stench from its decay would be discovered further down the line.

 Chapter 12

    ¡°HEYYOO~ I¡¯M BACK! Did¡¯ya miss me? Brought a friend with me, you¡¯d never guess who- oh, she¡¯s not here.¡± Stories called out, ascending from the central cavity of the Library. Receiving no response, he quizzically scanned the layout of the 428th floor. Timidly clutching on to the sleeve of his pin-striped suit was the God of Renewal.

    ¡°¡­I can come back later if she isn¡¯t around¡­ I don¡¯t want to make any trouble for Big Sis Order¡­¡± the soft voice issued from the black-haired girl¡¯s lips.

    Gods shared many qualities. Great strength, amazing resistances against extreme conditions, lifespans that lasted as long as the fabric of reality was still intact.

    Personality was¡­ not one of those qualities.

    This was evident from looking at the trembling girl currently peering out from behind Stories¡¯ back. When Renewal was created, her very first experience was an unfamiliar, wrinkled face with white fuzzy bits sticking out from it staring down at her. She was terrified. Traumatized, even. A new-born God thrust into an environment of loud, unpleasant and unwelcome stimuli.

    After she had eventually recovered enough from her fright to understand the task the frowny shouty grandpa had given her, Renewal felt immense relief. It was perfect for her; a job where she didn¡¯t have to interact with anyone at all. It would be silence and calm all around, for decades on end.

    But it was hardly three years into her stint that her peace would be interrupted by the arrival of her peer: the God of Insects.

    ¡°Hey¡­itsss¡­ your turn¡­ for the thhhiingg¡­¡± he (it?) had skittered.

    She didn¡¯t reply; at the first sight of a large humanoid bug creature scuttling straight for her, Renewal had been locked in place, limbs freezing to stone. Insects noticed the effect he had on her, and a guttural, rolling vocalisation emanated from his mandibles ¨C an approximation of a sigh.

    It wasn¡¯t that he wasn¡¯t oblivious to the fact that he was the picture of one¡¯s nightmares; he just wished that at least one of these Gods would treat him with the basic respect expected when one was greeting a guest. Not gawk or scream while pointing at his face.

    Insects held out a note prepared in advance for this occasion. (By Order, of course. She saw this coming a mile away.) Waving it in front of the terrified girl¡¯s face, the arthropod patiently waited for her to take it from him.

    Eventually, working through her fear, still shivering and vibrating in sheer distress, she had gingerly plucked the pale white envelope from his pincers and mustered up her courage to incline her head in gratitude. She¡¯d much rather just shrink away from the big, scary insect then hide away behind a rock or some other such large object until it went away, but after 20 minutes of being a motionless statue, she realised that the bug wasn¡¯t going to leave until it did what it was here to do.

    Insects exhaled once more in exasperation as his beady eyes stared at the trembling girl, his two antenna twitching from side to side, before he turned and flew off.

    You¡¯ll get it right next time, Insects, he muttered under his breath. One of these days they¡¯ll actually smile when they see you.

    Watching closely until the giant bug creature had become a speck in the distance, Renewal turned the note around in her hands, curiously examining it. There was a single word written on the front: Invitation. She carefully tore open the side and retrieved the note within.

    ¡°To whom it may concern, please proceed to the divine realms at your earliest convenience. There, I will conduct a face-to-face interview regarding the routine collection of data on your role and accomplishments thus far with the job assigned to you. Should this note have been assigned to you in error, please pass it on to the next God you come across in your travels.¡±

    Signed, the God of Order and Knowledge.

    Renewal¡¯s face turned pale. Face-to-face? Interview?

    She wasn¡¯t exactly comfortable with interaction with other people for long periods of time; or short periods of time, for that matter. She¡¯d much rather just stay nestled comfortably in the vicinity of the star system she was currently present at. Maybe for the next two decades.

    But¡­ It was a request from her senior, right? If she didn¡¯t go, maybe it would inconvenience her? If Order was inconvenienced, then Renewal might even become hated by them! Being hated meant that they might shout at her¡­ or maybe even throw things at her! She couldn¡¯t refuse this invitation!

    So, pumping her fists to gather up whatever shred of courage still remained, Renewal kicked off towards the divine realms.

    This would be her first encounter with Order.

    Recalling it now, Renewal felt the meeting didn¡¯t go that badly. Sure, she was blubbering and sputtering all the way through, unable to even form the words to greet her senior. You could hardly blame her, Order gave off almost exactly the same vibe as Life did; all stern and serious, ready to shout and scold at a moment¡¯s notice. But her senior God didn¡¯t reprimand her for that display of anxiety. They simply had a nice little chat about the things she had done. Then after an hour or so of light discussion, she was free to leave.

    Renewal was grateful for that - Order had identified her nervousness and treated her with care and kindness. For the introvert that she was, this meant that Order was bumped up several places in her mind, all the way to the top ¨C from mere acquaintance to big sister.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    So when some unknown, chatty (and annoying) man popped up while she was deep into year eight of her isolation and requested her assistance for something that Order was working on, Renewal happily went along, casting aside any initial doubts she might have had following some random stranger she¡¯d never heard of before.

    It¡¯ll be fine, she reasoned. He knows Big Sis Order! (Disclaimer: kindly do not follow strangers who tell you they definitely know your mum and that there¡¯s candy in the back of their van.)

    Which brings us to the present: where the two had returned to the Library to meet up with Order, who was mysteriously absent. After carefully prying Renewal off his sleeve and plopping her down in the general vicinity of a chair, Stories drifted towards the bookshelves, looking through the aisles one by one. Maybe she was engrossed in some lengthy text about the history of mathematics or something. Then again, he had shouted pretty loudly. You¡¯d have to be deaf not to hear that.

    It was on aisle 35 that he finally caught sight of a figure in white collapsed on the floor, a book left open by her side. His breath caught in his throat. Shit.

    ¡°OI! Order!¡± He hurried to her side to assess her condition. No time for energy conservation, he thought, channelling divine energy through his hands to solidify them so that he could adjust the body to search for wounds or other causes for her state of unconsciousness.

    But just as he turned her onto her back, he noticed that her chest was heaving up and down. Huh. She was still breathing. Imagine that.

    He shifted his gaze upwards towards her face. There, in uncharacteristic form, Stories found Order¡¯s mouth gaping open, a line of drool escaping from the side. Oh, Stories breathed a sigh of relief. Just sleeping. Girl must have tuckered herself out from all the intense¡­ uh¡­ reading she must have been doing. Smirking to himself, he gently shook her by her arms.

    ¡°Oi, lady¡­ I¡¯m back with the girl. No time for sleep. Wakey, wakey. Don¡¯t we have an experiment to run?¡±

    The jostling eventually roused Order from her slumber, and she gradually brought herself into a sitting position, her hair still slightly dishevelled, drool dripping off her chin. Order rubbed off the drool with the back of her hand as she yawned, eyes still blinking away the blurriness from fatigue. And she was fatigued - she¡¯d spent the entire night before Stories was set to return double checking weather patterns and hibernation behaviors on Blessed 903 to confirm that conditions would be optimal for the testing she needed to do.

    She sleepily turned towards the lesser God who was currently suppressing a fit of giggles at her atypical appearance.

    ¡°¡­oh, you¡¯re back, huh¡­ That was quick¡­ Give me a moment to freshen up and I¡¯ll be with you two for the briefing.¡± Getting up onto her feet, still yawning while she did so, Order made her way to the restroom to splash some water onto her face.

    After five minutes, she exited the restroom and made her way towards the circular table where the two were waiting. ¡°My greetings to you, God of Renewal. I hope I haven¡¯t pulled you away from anything important.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ no, it¡¯s alright¡­ I¡¯m happy to be here...¡± Renewal responded in a small voice. It seemed to still be difficult for her to interact with others in a satisfactory manner, but Order could tell she was at the very least making a conscious effort, so she didn¡¯t comment any further on the matter. She turned to face Stories. ¡°Was it difficult getting to where the God of Renewal was? You¡¯ll have to be making two similar trips after this one, so I hope not.¡±

    ¡°Nah, it was a breeze. Like you said, just follow the green arrow.¡± He tapped the black box currently at his side. Then, after a moment of consideration, he spoke up again. ¡°But if I said I had said it was hard, would you give me any more gizmos to make the journey easier? In that case, oooh yes, it was super difficult, you gotta give me more stuff - like a ray gun, or like a grenade or something-¡°

    ¡°Now that pleasantries are out of the way, let us move on to the briefing proper.¡± Order cut off the rambling jester before he could go off on another unrelated tangent.

    ¡°The target planet,¡± she propped open a presentation that she had prepared and pointed to a red circle in the corner. ¡°is the planet Blessed 903.¡± She flipped the page. ¡°The relevant species we will be working on will be these.¡±

    ¡°These are Plerbies.¡± Order pointed to a picture of a large animal mostly resembling the form of a bear. The creature was huge and imposing, except for one small detail - the body hair covering its massive frame was a shade of dark purple.

    ¡°Do not ask me why they are called that - the God of Truth and Honesty got to them first.¡± Stories slowly lowered his raised hand in disappointment.

    ¡°Over the course of three days, I¡¯ve memorized the relevant information regarding their behaviour and what we will need to do to locate them. As long as you follow my lead, nothing will go wrong. Understood?¡±

    The two lesser Gods nodded in unison. It was Order, after all. To them, she was the paragon of preparation, with a contingency for every problem that might crop up. Plus, she was one of those goody-two-shoes types, and someone like that would never be able to do anything wrong.

    Surely nothing bad would happen?

 Chapter 13

    ¡°Before we begin,¡± Order turned to face Renewal, startling her. The sudden spotlight sent the girl¡¯s thoughts whirling into overdrive.

    Big Sis Order only talks to someone if she needs something from them; so she needs something from me? Did I do something wrong? Was Big Sis Order angry with how late I was? Could it be that I¡¯m dressed inappropriately?

    Renewal hurriedly ran her hands down her dress, patting herself down looking for the offending accessory. And for whatever reason, began frantically checking her pockets.

    ¡°¡­I¡¯ll have to clarify the specifics of your ability.¡±

    Oh. Okay. She could do that.

    ¡°From what I have here,¡± Order consulted her notebook. ¡°it doesn¡¯t say anything about how your ability is used. Has the God of Stories and Creativity filled you in on the details of what we will be engaging in during the next few days?¡± Renewal shook her head, then spoke.

    ¡°¡­well, I don¡¯t exactly know if this will help with the experiment in any way¡­ but how my powers work is¡­ I hold out my palms towards whatever I want to use it on,¡± Renewal demonstrated thusly, pushing out her two arms. ¡°¡­then squeeze it out from there.¡±

    ¡°So you don¡¯t initiate physical contact with your target?¡±

    ¡°¡­if possible, I don¡¯t want to touch them¡­¡±

    Order¡¯s pen flowed across the open page of her notebook. ¡°Well, I¡¯m afraid that over the next few days you may have to overcome that phobia of yours, God of Renewal. That¡¯s precisely what we¡¯ll require you to do. Plus, this might improve the effectiveness of your ability as well. If you can accomplish what I¡¯ve written down here with the mere scattering of divine energy from afar, think about how much more potent it¡¯ll be when you¡¯re two steps away.¡±

    Renewal flinched at the idea. She¡¯d have to put her hands on an icky¡­ thing from some backwater planet? She hadn¡¯t even touched something from a frontwater planet! Renewal furtively glanced at Order¡¯s face. An expectant look was plastered across it. Seems like the touching part was absolutely non-negotiable for the project.

    And there was no way Renewal was going to let her down.

    So with grim determination, she clenched her fists to her chest to steel herself. ¡°If that¡¯s what Big Sis Order needs from me, I¡¯ll do my best!¡±

    Order nodded. Alright. Everything was in order. Nothing left to do but to set the ball in motion. ¡°That¡¯s all, I suppose. Let us prepare to depart.¡±

    Travelling through space within the Dimensional Wall - flying - was a wildly different experience for Original Existences compared to their lesser counterparts. It wasn¡¯t as if they couldn¡¯t do it, but it was a hassle to do so, which is why almost all of them preferred to walk (Technology was an outlier, he loved to fly around).

    The lesser Gods had it easy; within the Wall their bodies were immaterial anyways - the result of the divine plane attempting to expel what it believed to be foreign articles. The rejection forces acting on them as they remained in the heavenly realms was akin to say, a liquid enveloping them at all times - a sort of thick, oozing custard. You could push through it with minimal effort, sure, but you¡¯d constantly be sinking back down into the invisible sludge.

    For Gods like Order, however, this was the reverse: the divine realm hugged them tightly, tethering them firmly to reality. After all, it seemed to reason, they belonged here, on the ground. Not gallivanting recklessly about in the air. What if they got hurt?

    As a result of this smothering, Gods had to rely more heavily on their energy reserves or other such workarounds to transport themselves through the skies. Truth liked to puff up a couple of balloons and circulated divine energy within them to provide thrust and lift. If he wanted to, Life could simply will the air around him to carry him to where he wished to go ¨C the realm was like another limb to him, after all. Technology relied on his inventions: divine jetpacks, air solidifiers, quantum translocators ¨C you get the idea.

    And Order? Well, she believed in practicality above all else. What could be more practical than forming a pair of wings?

    It didn¡¯t take much time for the three of them to touch down onto Blessed 903; about an hour or so of uneventful, uninterrupted flight.

    Order had taken the lead, naturally. She was the only one who could have - if she let Stories assume the role of navigator, they¡¯d be stopping by every planet he found vaguely interesting. The trio landed in an open clearing matted with dark red grass, surrounded by densely packed trees and canopies which shared the same coloration. Blood red, Renewal thought, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. What sort of evil monster was going to spring out at them?

    Noticing her distress, Stories laid a reassuring palm on her shoulder. It did nothing to calm her quivering of course, but it made him feel like he was helping in some way. ¡°Oh come on miss Renewal¡­ There¡¯s nothing to be afraid of! I¡¯m sure your big sis Order triple checked that whatever lives on this planet is all fine and dandy. Right, Order?¡±

    ¡°All I know is what¡¯s recorded in the books. From what I can tell, yes, the only species that could conceivably pose a threat ¨C if even that ¨C are the Plerbies. And they¡¯re herbivores.¡±

    ¡°See? Nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°On the other hand, I would like to preface that statement with the fact that these records were taken three decades ago; there may have been new developme-¡°

    ¡°nopenopenopezipit YOU DON¡¯T HAVE TO KEEP TALKING- Renewal, listen to me, it¡¯s going to be fine, y¡¯hear me? Just fine.¡± Stories flashed a smile at the mildly vibrating child. ¡°We¡¯ll be in and out in a jiffy, anyways. Just tap and go. No need to stay too long on this spooky rock.¡±

    Order opened her mouth to correct Stories. They¡¯d at least have to remain in the vicinity of the planet for about a week or so, to observe the impact of their actions. Perhaps Renewal might even be needed to perform her role multiple times over the course of their stay here.

    But she subsequently clamped it shut. Stories was glaring pointedly at her, gesturing at the small, hyperventilating girl. Order mimed a zipper over her lips. Message received.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°In any case, the habitat of the target species should be up ahead.¡± Order pointed into the tangle of trees at a sizable pile of leaves and branches in the distance. ¡°The Plerbies collect and stockpile fallen vegetation for consumption. Where there¡¯s one pile, there¡¯ll be a Plerby around guarding it. So keep your eyes open.¡±

    ¡°Oh, look. There¡¯s one already.¡± Stories squinted into the darkness. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like a big one though. Eh. I¡¯ll take what I can get.¡± He floated over to the vague purple blob, Renewal trailing behind him nervously.

    ¡°So how does this work, I go first and Renewal goes after me?¡±

    Order grumbled as she fought her way through the brush. Her robe was getting caught on the tiny thorns and branches which crackled unpleasantly in response to the sudden intrusion. It didn¡¯t leave any markings on the white fabric, thankfully; the close contact with her divine form over multiple centuries had conferred upon it a gentle repelling field that kept dirt and small tears from marring the pure, colorless canvas. But just having to force her way through the native flora was enough to irritate Order. She was a God, for heaven¡¯s sake. These plants should have parted and given way as soon as they came into her divine presence. And for that matter, why couldn¡¯t these young ones spare a thought for those that couldn¡¯t literally phase through every obstacle in their path?

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there momentarily. Just keep an eye on the specimen and make sure it doesn¡¯t lumber off.¡±

    ¡°Aye aye, captain! My two eyeballs are glued to the thing. I mean, it¡¯s just a baby, anyhow. Just look at it.¡± Order finally emerged victorious from her battle with the brush and liberated herself from the mess of twigs and leaves with a huff. She brought her gaze to bear on the creature Stories had found.

    Certainly, it seemed to be an infant Plerby; it was around eight times smaller than one of the species more matured forms and it was currently plopped down in a relaxed seated position, legs lazily spread apart. While it had not noticed the two spectres that were directly on top of it, when Order arrived it had turned its head towards the noise and was now examining the visitor God with much na?ve curiosity.

    ¡°Not much of a guard, is he? The tyke isn¡¯t going to scare off a flea, let alone a fully grown bear.¡±

    ¡°They may be less than intelligent by our standards, but their natural instincts lead them to respect territorial boundaries. A baby means parents, means unnecessary conflict. Besides, their hides are tough enough to withstand attacks from sharp instruments or as is more likely in this environment, strikes from claws.¡± Order explained as she brushed her robes off with a hand, an action that was unnecessary given the aforementioned field of divine energy, but which gave her some measure of comfort anyway. The Plerby, which was probably being exposed to more stimuli than it had ever received in its short existence, began to imitate Order, stroking itself with a furry paw.

    ¡°Lookit that, it¡¯s copying you! Ain¡¯t that cute, eh, Renewal?¡± Stories nudged his peer with his elbow, prompting a small smile from the girl. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get this show on the road. Watch what I do, OK? You¡¯ll be doing this right after me.¡± Stories cracked his knuckles showily, and approached the infant. ¡°One dose of Divine Inspiration, coming right up!¡±

    Placing his intangible palms over the dark purple fur, he concentrated and willed his power through them. The glow around them slowly intensified until his hands became fully solid, at which point Stories held the position for a couple of minutes more. The Plerby didn¡¯t notice the set of disembodied hands, however, choosing instead to stare at the funny white lady who was currently overseeing the operation with crossed arms, book and pen dangling off her hands.

    ¡°Alright, your turn, miss.¡± Stories withdrew his palms and they quickly returned to an intangible state. ¡°It¡¯s easy, just focus and push outwards. Easy peasy. Just relax and do what you always do.¡± Renewal timidly nodded as she took Stories¡¯ place next to the creature. With two trembling palms, she laid them onto its fur, and began to accumulate power around them. The baby hadn¡¯t noticed before when Stories was enveloping it with his ability, but it certainly noticed Renewal¡¯s attempt, responding to the weird warmth around its back with a confused whine.

    ¡°You¡¯re good, just keep going. Your power¡¯s different from mine, so it just feels it differently. Probably.¡± Renewal continued her transfusion, her hands emitting a light green glow as they became tangible.

    But just as the injection of energy was reaching the minute mark, it burst.

    To be more specific, the entire back of the Plerby popped like a bubble, scattering flesh and bright red blood everywhere. Renewal shrieked and withdrew her power, the blood droplets which had touched her skin phasing through as she did so. The Plerby had begun to cry loudly, collapsing into a fetal position, paws reaching behind itself helplessly to probe at the sudden jolt of pain that had come from nowhere, then pulling them back as they brushed across open nerves, further intensifying its screeches of anguish. Tufts of bloodied fur and flakes of shattered bone were strewn around the grass floor, with the baby bear shivering and whining in its epicentre. Whines that were steadily growing softer and softer.

    Stories quickly went to Renewal¡¯s side and cooed small reassurances to calm her down as best he could. He turned to look to Order, to get further instructions on how to salvage the situation. From what he could tell, the experiment was a huge failure. Her plan wasn¡¯t going to work. But all he saw when he turned was a pen furiously scribbling, transcribing the graphic results of the first experiment as well as the variables which had caused them onto paper.

    Witnessing Order¡¯s general disinterest and still gently stroking the traumatized, curled-up Renewal to comfort her, all Stories could say were two words.

    ¡°Ah, crap.¡±

 Chapter 14

    Interesting, Order thought. The energy infusion by Renewal was slightly different from Stories¡¯ attempt ¨C it had glowed lime green rather than a mild yellow. Could just be a cosmetic difference, or it could alternatively be a marker for compatibility. Would require further testing to confirm.

    Then there was the matter of the violent detonation of the Plerby¡¯s torso: could it be that the species itself couldn¡¯t handle divine energy in different forms as well as she theorized it could? Or perhaps it was to do with Renewal¡¯s ability? The latter seemed a lot more likely, but she couldn¡¯t rule out the former either; if every mortal species had different reactions to godly abilities, she had to know about it - or the method wouldn¡¯t be generalized enough for use around the mortal realm.

    ¡°Hey, uh, Order? Kinda need you to take over the reins here. I¡¯m a God of Stories, not a God of Damage Control.¡± Order looked up from her notes at the sheepish remark from Stories, her train of thought cut off. Oh. Right. They were still here. She supposed that a few words of comfort were in order, to keep things flowing along smoothly. Renewal was still required for the next few samples, after all.

    Order gestured to the motionless purple body and spoke.

    ¡°Rest assured, this event is likely to be a fluke. A freak accident that won¡¯t occur in future testing. Let¡¯s move on to the next specimen and repeat the experiment.¡±

    ¡°A FLUKE?! THE DAMN BEAR EXPLODED!¡± Stories bellowed, a protective arm looped around the waist of the sobbing Renewal, holding her to his chest. ¡°You don¡¯t know if it¡¯s going to be a fluke the next time; you didn¡¯t even know that it was going to happen the first time! Or you wouldn¡¯t have made this poor girl do what she did!¡±

    Order inhaled sharply. The two likely weren¡¯t going to cooperate unless she gave them a plausible explanation for the situation. And he was right; she didn¡¯t know what was going to happen before Renewal touched the Plerby. If she had known, there wouldn¡¯t have been a need to conduct the experiment in the first place. Didn¡¯t he understand the meaning of experimentation? The process of meticulously going through every variation of a hypothesis, continuing through failure after failure until the desired result was achieved; or the hypothesis was proven wrong.

    Still, in the agitated state he was in ¨C well, both of them, actually - Stories likely wouldn¡¯t accept a textbook definition as sufficient enough to release Renewal into her care; she had to prove that it was an accident somehow. Preferably one that he caused; that way, he¡¯d have no moral standing to refute her words. Order quickly spun up a scenario based on her criteria. An entirely false one, of course ¨C she was still in the middle of sorting through the data that she had recorded from the experiment. But she just needed it to sound likely enough to be the actual truth.

    Just long enough to get Renewal to do another test.

    ¡°God of Stories and Creativity, I¡¯m sorry to say this; but it was your interference that caused this.¡±

    ¡°ME?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? HOW WOULD I-¡°

    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that. Remember how you, ¡°demonstrated¡±, your ability to the God of Renewal, to show her how to carry out the experiment? You injected the Plerby with your ¡°Divine Inspiration¡± first, did you not?¡±

    ¡°I mean, I had to-¡°

    ¡°Doing so likely altered the Plerby¡¯s composition drastically; it was under the influence of your power and was currently in the process of changing to suit itself to your calling.¡± Order had zero evidence to back up her claims, of course. Absolutely none. But she pressed on; this was the only way to make them fall into line. Life¡¯d understand; this was for the sake of the salvation of all mortals in existence. One or two white lies were justified in the face of what she was trying to achieve.

    ¡°The mixing of the two abilities caused an unintended reaction; after all, its body was already in the initial stages of becoming a thrall to your calling. What would happen if you caused it to switch course while it was already fixed onto the very set of tracks that you laid down?¡±

    ¡°But, I¡­ I didn¡¯t know.¡±

    Good. One more push and the blubbering fool¡¯d cave.

    ¡°Yes, the metaphorical train of its life would derail. Luckily, we caught it before we moved on to widespread testing. We¡¯ll omit your input and move on with the next specimen. Hopefully that way we¡¯ll be able to record some uncorrupted data.¡± There. That should be good enough to trick the two of them.

    And it wasn¡¯t as if she was lying entirely; she had noticed an unintended spike of divine energy right before the moment of eruption. It was just that she¡¯d deliberately omitted all the other possible candidates for the incident, chief of which was Renewal¡¯s ability itself being incompatible for the test. And volunteering that information wasn¡¯t going to get her test number 2.

    Sure enough, Stories had loosened his grip on Renewal¡¯s body, allowing her to drift slowly to the side. She¡¯d stopped bawling as well. The reasoning Order had concocted did make sense to her, and it was her big sister saying as such, therefore it must be true. Renewal rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand to rid herself of the tears still clinging to them and piped up, forcing a wide smile to hide her fear.

    ¡°¡­I¡¯m ok now, big sis Order¡­ uncle Stories. Sorry for crying. We can go do the next test.¡± Stories watched on uneasily. He still felt that halting the test was the best course of action. Hell, even just postponing it a week or so was fine; the girl had just watched a baby bear blow up in front of her face! The stuff of nightmares! And Order was letting that poor girl continue on with her stupid test?

    But he bit his lip. There was no way he could speak up now, even with his concerns. It was his actions at the start of the test that had caused the traumatizing incident. While he hadn¡¯t meant to, he was the one who had made the girl go through such a horrifying thing. And she was still bravely pushing through the horror, trying her best to suppress her apprehension. Who was he to stop her if she¡¯d made up her mind?

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Stories glumly hung his head, defeated. Best if he just returned to his role as clueless sidekick, he concluded. If he just stood by the side-line and let Order handle everything, another disaster like the one that had just occurred would be averted. Heck, there wouldn¡¯t even be anything to avert; he¡¯d gone ahead and stuck his hands in the cookie jar like the chump he was and now a little girl was paying for his hubris.

    In the end, Order got what she wanted - control. The mood had taken a turn for the worse, sure, and her companions were visibly miserable, but there wouldn¡¯t be any more interference in the testing process - at least until the next ¡°accident¡± occurred.

    ¡°We¡¯ll stay by the corpse. The mother or father of the infant will return eventually. Better to stake out a location we have full knowledge about than grope around helplessly in the dark and hope for another nest of theirs to fall into our lap.¡± There were no cheery replies from the two, just small nods of acknowledgement.

    Order wasn¡¯t too concerned about their mental state; it wouldn¡¯t affect the quality of the ability being used even if the user was completely insane. What mattered was whether or not they were consciously willing the ability to activate. And with Renewal putting up a strong front to mask her cowardice, she more than qualified for willing. So, under Order¡¯s direction, the three split up into hiding spots around the grisly remains of the dead animal and waited.

    Hours passed with no sign of movement in the vicinity of the nest. Just eerie, hushed quiet. Then, at the start of hour five, Order heard the muffled thump of paws trudging through the undergrowth, making its way towards the pile of twigs and leaves. She listened carefully and counted. Thump thump. Thump thump. Just one adult, it seemed.

    ¡°Get ready.¡± Order whispered to the girl hiding to her right, who replied with a small ¡°¡­ok¡±.

    The dark purple mass soon came into Order¡¯s view and immediately lumbered towards the food pile in large strides. As expected, the matured lifeforms are much larger than their babies, she thought. Let¡¯s hope this test doesn¡¯t go the way of the first one.

    The new Plerby grabbed a fistful of leaves from the mound and messily crammed it into its mouth, spraying flecks of wood and leaf matter around. For a good three minutes the silence of the forest was interjected with the sounds of crunching and snapping of twigs as it satiated its appetite. Then the noises abruptly ceased. It had finally come across the body of its child.

    It shambled over slowly towards the scene of blood and gore, as if in disbelief at what it was seeing. There were no predators lurking about on Blessed 903; the only deaths that the pacifist Plerbies ever experienced in the wild was that of old age. But reality eventually sunk in, and the parent gingerly raised the limp body up to its chest, its round black beady eyes looking the child over. Then it threw its head to the skies and wailed, a sorrowful, ear piercing howl.

    ¡°Now.¡± Order motioned to Renewal to move. And though the girl was still shaken by the recent happenings, arguably more so now that she was confronted with the heart-breaking scene of a mother mourning the loss of her child, Order¡¯s word still took priority in her mind. She took up position beside the stationary creature, stretched out her arms and focused, allowing the familiar heat of her ability to gather in her palms once more.

    Order watched closely. This time she¡¯d make sure every detail was captured by her two retinas. Already she could tell the process was different; with the infant Plerby there appeared to be some discomfort from the procedure, it had wriggled and protested the warmth from Renewal¡¯s palms. The mother didn¡¯t seem to notice at all, allowing Renewal continued access to her flank as she poured more energy in. It was probable that the maturity of the lifeform played a part in its receptiveness to godly alteration. She was sure of it.

    Two minutes. Still no sign of explosive discorporation. Three. Nothing.

    Just as Order was about to declare the test a success, a low rumble started to sound. Renewal pulled back quickly in shock, her thoughts flashing back to the visceral scene of that first test. Order hastily scanned the figure of the bear, looking for signs that there was about to be a nasty disassembly of the creature. The energy circulation doesn¡¯t seem to have been disrupted, Order noted. In theory, what happened that first time shouldn¡¯t repeat itself. Plus, the adult form of the species should hold divine energy much better.

    And in a way, Order was correct; the Plerby did not explode violently. Its hide, however, began to slough off in clumps of molten, liquid flesh, revealing pale bone underneath. The mother had flung the baby it was holding so gingerly before to the side, the corpse smashing against a nearby tree with a sickening crunch. Its wails, which a moment ago were that of mourning, were replaced with ear-splitting screeches of agony, punctuated with the sound of its paws pounding against the ground as the creature attempted to drown out the creeping pain throughout its body by lashing out at anything within its vicinity.

    Renewal had shrunk back in horror, covering her mouth with both palms as she witnessed yet another slow and painful death at her hands. Order was wrong; both times it had been her that had caused the suffering of the innocent Plerby.

    ¡°¡­imsorryimsorryimsorry¡­¡± The muffled chant came from behind closed palms as Renewal directed her guilt and remorse towards the dying creature.

    At the first sign of trouble, Stories had propelled himself from his hiding spot towards Renewal, and was now cradling the sputtering girl in his embrace. To the other God still wordlessly recording down her notes, however, he had a different response.

    ¡°WHAT THE HELL, ORDER?¡±

 Chapter 15

    So it wasn¡¯t the mixture of divine abilities conflicting which led to the failure of the first test; in fact, it seems more like the introduction of a new divine element overwrote the influence of the first... Not that I believed the nonsense I was telling those two, anyways. With this, all signs point to the conclusion that the result of both tests were due to the nature of Renewal¡¯s ability, not some outside factor. In addition, the green coloration of the activation of her ability persisted between the two samples, which appears to be a purely cosmetic distinction, influenced solely by the type of godly power employed. After all, the second test lasted longer than the first-

    ¡°OI! THIS WASN¡¯T WHAT YOU PROMISED, ORDER!¡± Order was rudely shaken out of her musings by a certain enraged God. She looked at him in mild shock, initially surprised at how he was touching her, then peered down at her shoulders to see the yellow glow of materialization surrounding his hands.

    ¡°This outcome doesn¡¯t warrant such a disproportionate response, God of Stories and Creati-¡°

    ¡°YES! YES IT DOES! YOU LIED! YOU SAID IT WAS MY FAULT! WHY DID THE SAME EXACT GOD-DAMNED THING HAPPEN AGAIN?!¡±

    Order pried off the grip Stories had on her shoulders, and loftily responded, ¡°It doesn¡¯t warrant an outburst of that extent¡­ because there isn¡¯t a problem to begin with. The first subject perished too quickly for me to have spoken up, but all the God of Renewal has to do is use her ability in its original fashion to rewind the cellular damage - no actual harm has occurred.¡±

    Hearing this, the distraught God wasted no time, showering the mewling mass with sparkles of green. Immediately, the Plerby¡¯s flesh began to knit together, pink skin starting to grow over exposed muscle, and new fur covering that in turn. Within moments, the creature was restored to an unwounded state, healthy and more importantly: alive. Its shrieks of agony gradually calmed down as it felt the searing pain from its once liquefying skin subside.

    The purple bear, still in the dark about the cause of its sudden torture and equally inexplicable salvation, looked around in confusion for the threat. When it could not find one, its simple mind started to piece together the information it had gathered. Baby, dead. Body, hurt. Place, bad. The conclusion quickly came; she should avoid this cursed place at all costs. So with one last defiant snort, it bounded off as fast as its two stubby legs could into the darkness of the dense forest.

    As soon as the Plerby had left the scene, Stories pinned Order to a nearby tree, slamming her into the wood with considerable force. It didn¡¯t hurt, naturally; Gods were built tough - but Stories didn¡¯t need it to hurt. Just to show that he was oh, so very pissed. ¡°Start talking,¡± he hissed through clenched teeth. ¡°You lied. Why?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wasting divine ener-¡°

    ¡°Don¡¯t change the subject. Explain yourself.¡±

    Order sighed. ¡°Because it wasn¡¯t a lie.¡± (It was.) ¡°The scenario I provided to the two of you made sense to me logically ¨C at the time. One data point does not a line make; I couldn¡¯t know for certain until Renewal had done another test.¡± Stories maintained eye contact, but released the activation of his ability, allowing Order to slip free.

    ¡°This experiment ends now. Renewal is going back where she came.¡±

    ¡°Now hold on, let¡¯s not be hasty here-¡°

    ¡°No, I¡¯ve had it with your lies. She goes home, NOW. Then we¡¯ll go back to the divine realm and have a nice chat with Life about what you¡¯ve done here today.¡± Order frowned. That was¡­ less than ideal. He couldn¡¯t end the test this early; what she had gathered so far wasn¡¯t enough. She needed more time.

    ¡°I said previously that a data point does not make a line, did I not? Well, I can¡¯t draw many useful conclusions from a sample size of two, can I?¡±

    ¡°Tough. Two¡¯s all you¡¯re getting. Come on, Renewal, you¡¯ve suffered enough for a couple of lifetimes. Time to get back to your cozy home.¡± Stories placed an arm around the girl¡¯s shoulders to support her; she¡¯d gone limp with accumulated stress. But she did manage to snuggle her head weakly into the hollow of his arm and remained there, allowing Stories to carefully lift her into a princess carry.

    Order watched on patiently as the lesser God cradled his charge, waiting for her chance to speak up. She¡¯d given up on getting another few more samples; Renewal wasn¡¯t in an optimal state to continue, in any case. But she still couldn¡¯t let him leave ¨C not until he had considered the ramifications of what they¡¯d done today. And what she needed him to do.

    ¡°Wait. Fine, the God of Renewal can return to her task. You can let her rest here until she¡¯s recovered enough strength to make her way back herself. But don¡¯t you want to know what comes next?¡±

    Stories turned to face Order once more, with an incredulous glare. ¡°WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO KNOW THAT?! THAT¡¯S WHAT YOU WANT!¡±

    Imbecile, Order silently thought to herself. ¡°You understand what the point of today¡¯s experiment is, correct? The goal?¡±

    ¡°I. DON¡¯T. CARE. Some useless crap about saving dumb mortals ¨C incidentally, something that I¡¯ll be complaining to Life about. Right after I¡¯ve sent this girl home safely.¡±

    ¡°We were trying to observe the impact of godly abilities on mortal species ¨C specifically, the contagion effect present when those abilities are injected into specimens at point blank range. Remember, the God of Renewal healed that last mortal from certain demise ¨C it still carries her mark! What do you think will happen if it spreads this infection to every single Plerby it meets? Every one it touches? The species would go extinct within weeks, if not days!¡±

    The impassioned appeal by Order gave Stories pause ¨C what she was saying made sense; they were indeed trying to recreate what his Divine Inspiration had managed. She didn¡¯t seem to be lying this time, either; her tone was one tinged with urgency, with worry.

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    Then he decided it wasn¡¯t his problem.

    ¡°If you care so much about the mess you¡¯ve created, you handle it. I¡¯ll be waiting for you at Life¡¯s place when I¡¯ve escorted Renewal back.¡± With that, Stories kicked off the ground, propelling himself towards the Dimensional Wall in the distance.

    As soon as the two lesser Gods were out of earshot, Order swore, kicking the closest tree with her white boots. It wasn¡¯t impossible to continue observation without the two, no - in fact, she liked to think that she worked better alone. But the unspoken words that were conveniently left out when she was making her case to persuade Stories to stay was that she didn¡¯t want to get her own hands dirty. Sorting through books or rearranging documents wasn¡¯t the same as sliding a blade across the neck of a living, breathing animal.

    Damn it, she cursed. Fine, I¡¯ll do it myself. Order popped open a brown satchel on her belt and rummaged through it. She hadn¡¯t used the implement much so it was stashed away in her pouch for miscellaneous objects, but she kept it on her at all times, in case she had to cut an apple or something. There. She pulled out the black tube and popped the cap, twisting its end like a lipstick as she did so.

    The matte black blade emerged, a razor sharp edge capable of dividing virtually anything in two, a souvenir from Death when he was in his metalworking phase a couple of centuries back. At the time, he¡¯d been basically throwing metal tools and various sculptures at the other Gods as quickly as he could pump them out. But on this occasion, Order was glad that he had; otherwise she might have had to do the gruesome deed with bare hands. She confirmed that the blade had not gone dull with two quick slashes against the bark of a tree. The wood pulp separated itself from the trunk with no resistance whatsoever. Good. She retracted the blade and replaced the cap, returning it to the satchel.

    Order materialized her wings once more. She had a purple bear to track down and hunt. If necessary, of course.

    Breaking through the canopy with two flaps of her wings, she paused while hovering above the sea of red, running through calculations in her mind. With around 7 minutes of head start, coupled with the average running speed of the bear¡­ Probably around there. Order mentally marked the location and launched herself towards the approximate position of the Plerby, making sure that she¡¯d land just far enough away to not be spotted by her prey.

    Sure enough, as she slipped through the branches about ten feet from her estimate, the plodding of heavy paws could be heard echoing through the place. Waving a hand to cancel her wings, she confirmed that her white robes were concealed sufficiently by the shrubbery, and waited for the bear to arrive.

    Thump thump¡­ thump thump¡­ Four. Two sets of footsteps. Apparently it had met up with its mate sometime during its frantic escape, because there were now two Plerbies bounding her way. Perfect, Order thought. She¡¯d be able to observe the effects of Renewal¡¯s work first-hand. The bears had come into view now, jogging briskly along, with one lagging behind the other. That one¡¯s the father, Order reasoned. It seemed to be a lot less jumpy, stopping periodically to chew on a nearby bush, seemingly only following to appease its partner.

    As the two passed, Order trailed behind them. From Stories¡¯ account of his own experiment, it¡¯d take about a day for any initial effects to take place. If her theory was proven right and the male Plerby was about to melt into a slurry of meat and fur, she¡¯d have to put down the carrier before it could spread the germ any further. After a few hours of stalking, she watched them start to curl up beneath a tree to rest for the day. Order set her mental clock for eight hours from the present, then settled in for the night. Any time now until her theory would be proven right.

    The first rays of sunlight shone through the canopy cover, waking the God from her rest. Rubbing her half-opened eyes, Order glanced over at where the bears had made camp previously. It seemed they were early risers; well, one of them anyways. The one that was awake was hunched over the other, paws gripping the shoulders of the sleeping bear. Order blinked away the fatigue and looked closer. No, the one that was prone wasn¡¯t sleeping; there were gooey red strands of meat fibers coming off and sticking to the female Plerby¡¯s paws wherever she touched, akin to dipping one¡¯s hand in hot toffee. It was most definitely deceased.

    Order moved closer to observe the aftermath. There, she finally saw that the head of the male Plerby had half melted off, its skull fully exposed to the elements. Whatever had dripped off was currently pooling around the body in a murky black puddle of keratin and blood. The female didn¡¯t seem to understand; or was trying to avoid reality ¨C it was still attempting to wake its partner from his sleep, whining pitifully as she did so.

    Fascinating, Order mused. So Renewal¡¯s ¡°power over the cycle¡± was more akin to simultaneous destruction and reconstruction - from afar, the effects were tuned down, so minute adjustments by the user could more easily be made to maintain equilibrium between the two factors. Up close? The element of destruction ran amok, destroying faster than the object could be rebuilt.

    Well, Order thought. At least I know now; the theory holds. I just have to be more selective with the Gods I utilise in the experiment. This shouldn¡¯t be relevant for the other two Gods I¡¯ve chosen; their abilities shouldn¡¯t have detrimental effects as far as I can tell. Then she sighed.

    ¡°Guess I can¡¯t put it off any longer. Damn it, Stories. This is why I needed you here ¨C for this part.¡± Order retrieved the black tube from her pouch, and advanced on the still weeping bear.

 Chapter 16

    ¡°¡­uncle Stories?¡± The soft-spoken voice came from the God of Renewal, still lying down in Stories¡¯ arms as he made the long journey back to the star system where he had invited her from - Genesis 3.

    ¡°Yeah? Are you uncomfortable? Here, I¡¯ll move my arm.¡± Renewal shook her head as she lay there, then continued.

    ¡°¡­will big sis Order be mad that I didn¡¯t finish her experiment? I don¡¯t want to make her angry.¡± Stories frowned as he heard Renewal¡¯s worry. What exactly had that absolute disgrace of a god done to secure this precious girl¡¯s infatuation?

    ¡°Who cares what that slimy witch thinks? Just do what you want to do. There¡¯s no need to dance to the tune of anyone else; even if they¡¯re older than you. Especially if they¡¯re older than you. Age doesn¡¯t always mean wisdom.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call her that!¡± Renewal got up with a start, causing Stories to abruptly cease his flight - which in turn flipped the two upside down. After spinning around in space for a minute or so, the two managed to right themselves by grabbing on to each other¡¯s arms.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t do that again.¡± The nauseous plea came from Stories as he swallowed to hold back the rising bile from an oncoming urge to vomit.

    ¡°¡­sorry. But you still shouldn¡¯t call big sis Order something so nasty.¡± Renewal let go of his arms and the two continued the flight back side-by-side.

    ¡°Why exactly do you hold that wit-¡± (Renewal started to glare at him) ¡°¡­uh, lady in such high regard? What, did she bribe you with some jewel or something? No, if I think about it, if it¡¯s a bribe tailored to you¡­ then maybe she gave you like, a cloaking device or something? So that you can hide away from visitors?¡±

    ¡°¡­oh, I might want that actually¡­ but no, she¡­¡± Renewal smiled warmly, reminiscing their first meeting. ¡°¡­she was nice to me. Just¡­ nice.¡±

    ¡°Just nice? And all of a sudden she¡¯s your best friend?¡±

    ¡°¡­she was the first one to be nice to me¡­ there¡¯s no way you can¡¯t ask me to hate her ¨C she¡¯s my big sis, no matter what happens...¡±

    Stories shook his head in disapproval. It didn¡¯t make sense to him; in the short period of time that he had interacted with the God of Order and Knowledge, he had found her cold and calculating, rigid and unyielding. How anyone could find that emotionless robot nice, was inconceivable. Well, Stories mused, there¡¯s no helping bad taste.

    ¡°Hey, yeah. For that matter, why am I your uncle? Shouldn¡¯t it be big bro? You know I¡¯m younger than Order, right? By like, an order of two.¡± Stories grumbled.

    Renewal giggled. ¡°¡­I dunno¡­you just¡­ seem more like an uncle than a big brother¡­¡± She waved her hand in his direction, gesturing to his brown pin-striped suit. ¡°¡­you look like one¡­ too.¡±

    ¡°What?! I¡¯ll have you know, this outfit is extremely dapper, ok?! Truth says she likes it, she says it makes me look more mature and- oh wait, never mind, I see it now.¡± The sheepish admission sent Renewal into another fit of giggles as Stories looked down at what he was wearing.

    ¡°That¡¯s the last time I¡¯m taking fashion advice from that woman. Maybe I¡¯ll just wear a plain white T-shirt and jeans, like a normal person.¡±

    ¡°¡­no, no. I think you should stay with the brown suit. I like it.¡±

    ¡°¡­I suppose I could stick with it for a while longer. To be quite frank, the suit¡¯s grown on me, too. Plus, I¡¯m surrounded by fashion disasters¡­ with such bad influences, my fashion sense has probably degraded to the level of a toddler. Switching my outfit up this late in the game? Probably gonna look a whole lot worse.¡±

    The God of Renewal didn¡¯t say what was really on her mind; that the real reason why she liked the brown pin-striped suit wasn¡¯t because it looked cool or stylish, but because it was worn by her new, most favourite person.

    ======================================================

    Order shook the blade off, spraying droplets of blood around on the overgrowth as she did so. She examined the blade once again. Still bloody. Annoyed, she plucked a leaf from a nearby bush and wiped off the blade as best she could, then replaced the cap on the black tube. She¡¯d polish it to the standards she was used to after she was back at the Library.

    Removing her notebook from her belt, Order flipped to her most recent notes and studied them again. ¡°¡­yes, done, done¡­ and done. That should be everything. Pity I didn¡¯t get to test with a larger sample size; or with different variables. It might have been possible to modulate the output of Renewal¡¯s ability by adjusting the distance she used it at, although that still wouldn¡¯t solve the problem of the transfer mechanism only inheriting the destructive properties and not the regenerative effects. Perhaps with more time I could have isolated the factors for the latter and refined it to ensure a balance of sorts. This could potentially have been the right answer¡­ haaa¡­ No point worrying about it, I suppose. I doubt I¡¯ll get to utilise Renewal any more than this.¡± Order sighed as she lamented the missed opportunities.

    She raised her hand in a flourish to bring up her wings in preparation for the short flight back to her abode. Before leaving, however, she turned to look at the Plerbies one final time. After slitting the mother¡¯s throat, Order had proceeded to ensure that the creature¡¯s higher brain functions were shut down as quickly as possible via a quick stab to the brain stem. She was a scholar, not a monster; she didn¡¯t want her test subjects to suffer if it wasn¡¯t necessary.

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    After the deed was done, she¡¯d left the dying body lying on top of her mate as it gradually bled out; a twisted embrace of sorts. Order smiled at the sight.

    ¡°Good for them. They died in the arms of the one they loved most. How romantic.¡±

    Then with a flap of her wings, the God was gone.

    ======================================================

    ¡°There you are, Genesis 3. Sorry about the¡­ y¡¯know¡­ everything.¡± Stories bowed apologetically as Renewal frantically waved her hands.

    ¡°¡­please don¡¯t say that¡­it wasn¡¯t much trouble.¡±

    He raised his head, flashing a wide grin at the girl. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be off, then. You¡¯ll probably want to get back to your ¡°you¡± time, after all.¡±

    ¡°¡­um¡­ please wait, uncle Stories.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°¡­will I see you again?¡±

    Stories scratched his head at the question. How exactly was he going to put this so that she wouldn¡¯t start crying?

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t often leave the divine realms; heck, even this trip was suggested by Order. Probably won¡¯t come here often if it¡¯s going to be a day and a half¡¯s journey here and back; that¡¯s way too time consuming.¡±

    Seeing Renewal¡¯s face start to droop, he quickly followed up. ¡°¡­but, uh, if you ever come back to the divine realm sometime to, I dunno, refill your reserves at Life¡¯s, just go to this big white cathedral on the western end and have a quick chat with the lady inside. She¡¯ll know where to find me.¡±

    The girl beamed. ¡°¡­then¡­ it¡¯s a promise. You¡¯ll have to spend at least two hours with me showing me around the place.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no problemo. I¡¯ll show you all the best spots to uh, watch people have fun!¡± With that, the God of Stories and Creativity launched himself back into the stars.

    ¡°Ah¡­ youth. Truly heart-warming to see such innocence.¡± He smiled wistfully as he thought about the girl he had just bid farewell to. Sometimes it was just refreshing to meet a God that hadn¡¯t yet been corrupted by the cynicism and brooding that came with the passage of time. He didn¡¯t count; he¡¯d effectively spent his entire ¡°childhood¡± period taking cues from those very same tainted adults.

    Right. His face hardened. There¡¯s one very specific tainted adult that I¡¯ll have to have a long and hard chat with. What was she thinking, exactly? That just because Renewal¡¯s young and impressionable, she can be pushed around? Damned hag, just because you¡¯ve lived for what, six centuries, doesn¡¯t make you king of the lesser gods. We aren¡¯t simple pawns for you to kick around so that you can stick another feather in your cap. Ooh, you¡¯re in for it now.

    As he hurled abuse at the imaginary Order in his mind, Stories began the long trip back to the divine realms.

    ======================================================

    Order wasn¡¯t slacking around while waiting the three days for Stories to return ¨C no, she spent the time poring through the preliminary notes that she had gathered, refining the data for use with the upcoming experiments. She had already noted a flaw with the initial test with the two other lesser Gods; they¡¯d basically started their tests on a whim. Whatever they could find, be it a baby or an adult, they dumped into the cauldron. Of course the metaphorical broth of results would have turned out foul and inedible; there needed to be proper areas demarcated, subjects rounded up properly, all preparations completed before any testing could be done. She¡¯d not make the same mistake twice, that was for sure.

    Hell, even the data that they did obtain; that was by sheer luck! What was she going to do if the adult Plerby didn¡¯t meet up with its kind after a day or so? Camp on the rock for another five days, hoping that the creature would magically decide to seek out another one of its peers for companionship? Ridiculous.

    ¡°ORDER!¡± The shout came from below. Order knew the cretin had returned.

    ¡°You know why I¡¯m here, right?¡±

    ¡°Correct, God of Stories and Creativity. You wish to accompany me to the God of Life and Creation¡¯s domain; to protest the conditions of the experiment?¡±

    Stories arched an eyebrow quizzically. ¡°You don¡¯t seem very worried about this. You do get that depending on Life¡¯s answer, your little experiment is over, right?¡±

    ¡°Why should I be?¡± Order replied, an air of confidence surrounding her. ¡°I believe that all my actions were necessary to prove my hypothesis, and I¡¯m certain that the God of Life and Creation will see things my way ¨C after I¡¯ve explained it to him in full.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that.¡±

    The two made their way to the elevator. Stories had rehearsed the entire conversation over and over in his mind the entire return trip back and it always ended the same way; with Life berating and condemning Order¡¯s actions, which then led to him throwing her in uber-mega-hyper God prison.

    Okay, maybe that last bit was a little embellishment on his part. But he couldn¡¯t see how she was getting out of this with no repercussions. She''d treated two defenceless, helpless mortals like dirt; like steps on a path to getting what she wanted. Mortal life that the God of Life and Creation swore to protect. No way was Life siding with her over him.

    After witnessing her demeanor, however, a tiny twinge of unease had crept into his mind.

    Why did he feel like she was still going to get away with it scot-free?

 Chapter 17

    The God of Death and Taxes was not having a good day. First, the automatic Netherworld Gates had broken down again, so he was forced to stand by and let the souls of the dead through one by one, like some glorified doorman. He had been certain that he¡¯d fixed the problem that had caused the last breakdown for good (it was some obscure technicality where the doors had read a fraction of dead mortals as still being alive due to the wide-spanning post-death impact of their pre-death deeds). But apparently not, as the line was once again building up; this time for no readily visible cause.

    Death did try to have fun with the menial task of course, like spooking the confused mortals with some spiel about how they¡¯d be tortured for all eternity for all their sins. But after the hundredth mortal the act had sort of lost its appeal. There was only so many times one could derive pleasure from the same old terrified expressions and played-out pleas for salvation, after all. Eventually he¡¯d delegated the task of door-opener to a random knightly-looking fella, with the godly promise that after the line was cleared, Death would pull some strings and make sure that his soul would be diverted to ¡°the place above¡±.

    Naturally, that promise was a small fib, a little prank on Death¡¯s part: all souls went to the same place. Back into the Void to be melded together as a potpourri of mortal consciousness, subsequently broken down into their components, then scooped out again as a brand new, completely blank slate of a soul to be deposited in the body of a lifeform recently birthed in some random corner of reality. He had wondered why almost every sentient mortal civilisation had the concept of a heaven and hell; in that purely hypothetical system it just wouldn¡¯t be efficient to keep removing precious ectoplasm from the delicate equilibrium of soul mixture purely because that mortal being had done something ¡°good¡± for the survival of their species.

    Heck, from Death¡¯s perspective, any mortal contributing to the extended survival of any organism in general was evil, not benign. The system of reality was there to ensure diversity in mortal forms; the longer lived a mortal civilisation, the more likely it was to consume that distinctiveness, leading to that sector of space becoming more and more homogenous until eventually all that remained would be a single shade of boringness.

    Of course, he wouldn¡¯t spout this opinion of his in front of his esteemed brother (even if he did think that the whole quest to save the mortals was an illogical and futile one). So unlike other Gods which actively sought out new ways to increase the amount of actions being carried out that related to their calling, Death merely kept the existing ecosystem running as smoothly as he could.

    The very fragile ecosystem, mind; while manning the defective Gates he¡¯d picked up on chatter from a suspiciously large group of humanoid squids that there was an ongoing infestation of undying squids that refused to die when they were killed ¨C and that getting bitten by any of them would turn you into one of them.

    After a quick chat with a few members of the fishy congregation to get a clearer picture about the situation, he¡¯d learnt that the present gathering of deceased squids comprising a number of approximately fifty thousand had previously been residents of a town that was nuked by their central government in a desperate bid to regain control over the infected area. Before this lot had succumbed from multiple squid organ failure, a number of them had reportedly glimpsed the shambling undead fish monsters get back up, now glowing an ominous green from massive doses of radiation.

    Death had groaned at that. Great. Now on top of finding time to troubleshoot the Netherworld Gates soul-recognition system he needed to curb an invasion of radioactive squid zombies before they collapsed squid society. And he had to unravel the mystery behind just how those creatures were able to conceal themselves from his sight without even so much as a hint to their existence or the whole god-damned event would just start up again in another corner of reality without his knowledge. Bloody mortals, messing with the fabric of reality, the very rules of nature, just to¡­ what? Live a little longer? Clutch on to their meaningless wealth and power?

    Just as Death was getting ready to create a portal to quell the zombie squid apocalypse, a circular chip secured to his wrist by a ribbon of black silk vibrated in a quick repeating one-two tempo.

    It was the doorbell ¨C someone was banging on the gates of his domain again.

    ¡°Damnit Life, I¡¯m busy too¡­ would it kill you to pause what you¡¯re doing for just one second to answer the door?¡± Death grumbled, sealing the growing tear in space-time leading to squid purgatory with a pinch of his fingers. Despite the muttered complaint, Death was still about to go let the guests in; in his experience, he knew that shut-in of his couldn¡¯t do anything without his dear younger brother cleaning up behind him.

    When he¡¯d finally reached the entrance of the Cube, however, Death saw two individuals he hadn¡¯t been expecting. Not for another ten years, anyways - if the new sign standing on the Dimensional Wall were to be believed.

    ¡°Order? Why have you returned to my abode? On top of that, why would you be bringing this lesser God with you? I believe that at this point in time your experiment should still be ongoing, should it not? If you require Life in any capacity to assist with your experiment, I would take that as an implicit admission that you¡¯ve failed in your task, no?¡±

    The female God bowed deeply. ¡°My greatest apologies, God of Death and Taxes, my unprompted visit today does indeed pertain to the experiment that I am conducting. However, as you may surmise, it is not I that requires any such assistance from the God of Life and Creation. The God of Stories and Creativity, on the other hand¡­¡± Order paused to glare at the lesser God currently treading air and attempting to maintain a stern fa?ade by putting on a stiff face and crossing his arms. ¡°¡­he would have words with the God of Life and Creation regarding my methods.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I have a whole speech written up. Haruumph and darn it and uh¡­ all that.¡±

    Death unlatched the gate with a sigh. ¡°Same place. I do hope that this won¡¯t become a recurring theme with the two of you¡­ I have other things to worry about besides just opening the door for visitors, you know.¡± Order indicated her gratitude with a curt nod, then strode past the elder God, making her way towards the back of the Cube with Stories swimming behind her. Rapping twice on the entrance to Life¡¯s workshop, the two waited for the muffled racket going on behind the door to cease. After a beat, it creaked open.

    ¡°Oh, Order, ready to throw in the towel yet? I see you¡¯ve brought young Stories as well¡­ did something happen?¡± Life ushered the two into the workshop and returned to his position seated in front of his latest suspension of God-fluid and liquid flesh.

    Order stole a peek at the reject pile in the corner: the number of meatballs had ballooned to a little over thirty. Some of them even had fully defined ocular appendages (eyeballs) which were currently intently examining the new visitors. She tried to ignore their gazes by returning to the matter at hand, but could still feel those eyes boring holes in the back of her head as she spoke.

    ¡°The God of Stories and Creativity would like to make a- in my personal opinion- patently ridiculous, case for you to halt the proceedings of my experiment. Right after he has finished spewing his utter nonsense, I will similarly provide you with a detailed rebuttal which should inform your decision with regards to the issue.¡± Life paused, his hand frozen in front of the suspended ball in the centre of the room. He turned to face the two, face slowly hardening as he took in what Order was saying.

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    ¡°I suppose the experiment isn¡¯t going as well as expected, then.¡±

    Stories cut in at this point. ¡°No. No, it hasn¡¯t. Hi, Life, you know me: it¡¯s ya boy, Stories. Let me spin you an entirely non-fictional tale about how your precious daughter over here (that¡¯s Order), did some very heinous deeds ¨C ooh, the things I¡¯m about to tell you are going to make your toes curl!¡±

    The lesser God proceeded to launch into a tirade about the treatment of two particular purple bears he was present for, how Order had lied to both of her juniors about the specific reason for those mortals undergoing such torment - and as the cherry on top: how she wanted to keep going. To keep torturing a mortal species for no good reason other than to satisfy a cruel, twisted curiosity. Order had tuned out the bulk of Stories¡¯ emotional rant ¨C no point wasting time picking through the flimsy arguments being regurgitated by a fool when all she needed to do was convince the God of Life and Creation himself that her actions were justified.

    ¡°¡­ and then she probably tracked down that poor, helpless bear and ripped it to shreds with her teeth!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough.¡± The God of Life and Creation turned to his daughter. He certainly wasn¡¯t smiling now. ¡°Order, I gave you free rein to conduct your tests because I believed that there was the basic, implicit understanding that the mortals wouldn¡¯t be hurt. From what Stories has said (and you haven¡¯t denied or refuted any of the points he raised), I have half a mind to bar you from further meddling in mortal affairs. The only reason why I haven¡¯t done so is because you¡¯ve prepared some sort of rebuttal to counter these accusations. Well, then. Go for it. The floor is yours, Order.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, God of Life and Creation. Now,¡± Order cleared her throat. ¡°The reason why I¡¯ve not refuted anything that the God of Stories and Creativity has raised¡­ is because it¡¯s all true. Maybe slightly exaggerated, but yes, the events which he has described did indeed take place.¡±

    ¡°Hah! That¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong, I- wait, why are you agreeing with me?¡± Order ignored the idiot¡¯s exclamation and continued.

    ¡°Some mortals of old have a saying: ¡°The ends justify the means.¡± I believe that applies here in its entirety. You say I¡¯m exploiting mortal lives, hurting and demeaning them for the sole purpose of collecting data for my experiment? Well, I would counter that with the fact that behind every advancement in mortal history you can often find a million bodies, sentient or otherwise, forming the foundation for that advancement. Without sacrifice, how can there be change?¡±

    Life frowned at this. ¡°So you don¡¯t see anything wrong with your actions? Actions, I might add, you can reasonably infer from my title as the God of Life, I would disagree with and condemn wholeheartedly?¡±

    ¡°God of Life and Creation, look at it from my perspective: these are mortal beings that average lifespans of mere decades; not centuries. In the grand scheme of things,¡± Order paused for effect. ¡°They are but dust in the wind. Additionally, I¡¯ve made sure to select for unintelligent, less-than-advanced lifeforms; the ones that would not have made a significant impact should they be wiped out. If anything, they should be overjoyed that their deaths would contribute greatly to the eventual goal that all sentient lifespans would multiply tenfold; perhaps even hundredfold!¡±

    The face of the only lesser god in the room slowly whitened with every new word the witch had uttered. He could see that Life was actually mulling over the madwoman¡¯s argument. No, Stories thought. He should be enraged! He should be yelling and throwing chairs about!

    ¡°You can¡¯t honestly be going along with this, can you? Life, she¡¯s arguing that you put the cart before the horse; she wants to kill mortals to save them? What kind of bull-¡°

    ¡°Enough, Stories. I¡¯ve made my decision.¡± The elder God stood up, addressing the two of them sternly.

    ¡°I would like to start by prefacing that I do not agree with these acts of mortal torment.¡±

    No¡­

    ¡°That I would much rather have the tests done in a manner where all subjects are treated with care and left unharmed.¡±

    No¡­

    ¡°However¡­ I do see the value in what Order is attempting with these experiments. Therefore¡­ I will allow them to continue.¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± Stories shouted, the words tumbling out before he could cram them back into his throat. To hell with respect, the old man was about to pardon her for everything! ¡°YOU¡¯RE LETTING HER GET AWAY WITH THIS?! WITH¡­ THESE¡­ THESE VILE ACTS?!¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t let me finish, young Stories. I believe that my decision will be satisfactory to the both of you. Should you want to continue, Order, there will be conditions imposed upon you.¡±

    Stories closed his mouth begrudgingly. If there was going to be some form of restriction, he supposed he could hold his tongue for the moment. Order, on the other hand, had wrinkled her brow. She hadn¡¯t foreseen this outcome. Sure, she¡¯d expected that Life would agree with her stance; after all, he¡¯d been at a standstill with his own trials for centuries now ¨C but conditions? Whatever for?

    ¡°Order can carry out her tests, with whatever Gods she pleases. But¡­ one God, one planet. No more.¡±

    ¡°WHAT?!¡± It was Order¡¯s turn to voice her displeasure. ¡°One each won¡¯t be enough, God of Life and Creation. There may be other factors which interfere with the collection of data, I might even overlook some vital clue if-¡°

    ¡°Order, that¡¯s all you¡¯re getting. One planet per God. If the data collected from a single mortal species cannot be extrapolated to fit every single species in reality, then it¡¯s useless to me. Understood?¡±

    Order bit her lip at the ultimatum. This was going to strip her of many different plans of attack that she''d come up with. But she also knew that she couldn¡¯t defy her father, the one person in all of the divine realms that was unquestionably her superior.

    ¡°Additionally, I¡¯ll allow Stories full control over the experiment. At any point, if he thinks that it¡¯s going too far, he can halt it with no objections from you.¡± Life placed his finger over Order¡¯s lips, silencing her protest before she could utter a word. ¡°This condition, too, is non-negotiable.¡±

    He turned to Stories. ¡°Would this be agreeable to you, Stories? Full control over the experiment; one step over the line, and she¡¯ll have to move on to the next idea.¡±

    Stories was a little conflicted at the suggestion. For one, he wanted Order to be punished for her actions on Blessed 903 - to have the proverbial book thrown at her. And if there wasn¡¯t a book, to have laws written up for this specific situation, then to have that book thrown at her.

    But come to think of it, having full power over Order¡¯s precious experiment would make her squirm¡­

    ¡°Alright boss, can¡¯t say I¡¯m too happy about all of it¡­ but this would be a step in the right direction. I agree to your proposal.¡±

    ¡°Well, Order?¡± Life looked to her, waiting for a response.

    Order obviously didn¡¯t approve of the new restrictions. They¡¯d weigh her down, lead her to prematurely drop lines of reasoning that might have yielded actual results. Why couldn¡¯t Life just let her do what she needed?

    But after ten silent minutes of wrestling with the problem and finding no viable path of logic that would change the elder God¡¯s mind, she could only reluctantly utter two words.

    ¡°¡­I agree.¡±

 Chapter 18

    Humiliation. That was the feeling Order was blanketed with as she took brisk steps away from Life¡¯s home. She was the most knowledgeable God in the divine realms. The smartest, by far. She could recite the number of pi to the 52nd digit. She could solve complex mathematical equations in her sleep. Hell, she¡¯d even discovered three new elements, two of which were fundamental to the stabilization of the forces which kept the bulk of the divine plane firmly in a tangible state. It was thanks to her (and Life for providing the juice to implement her suggestions, she supposed) that the divine realm could even function in the state that it currently did!

    And what did Life do to that unparalleled genius? The one that worked day and night to maintain detailed records of his lesser Gods, that met up with him on a daily basis, and kept him company where no other Original Existences spared the time to do so?

    Place her under the thumb of a complete imbecile.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so glum, my dear Order! You got to keep your experiment going, didn¡¯t you? Crack a smile!¡±

    Great, now the damned fool was gloating. He hadn¡¯t even done anything of substance to deserve the role; Life only picked him as her caretaker because he just happened to be there. If his presence were to be replaced with a block of wood sculpted to vaguely resemble the shape of a humanoid, that role of supervisor would have been filled just as sufficiently.

    And a block of wood couldn¡¯t speak either, so it¡¯d be a major improvement over this halfwit.

    ¡°Hey, when we get to the next planet, don¡¯t forget who calls the shots, ok? Just a reminder, it¡¯s little ol¡¯ me! Not you, me!¡±

    ¡°Do you ever shut up?¡± The two entered Order¡¯s log cabin and she stomped towards the hidden button for the entrance to her Library. With the new limitations imposed upon her, she¡¯d have to rethink the structure of the testing procedures. One more suited to the greatly reduced sample size of one planet per God.

    ¡°Hey, uh¡­ what are you doing? Don¡¯t we need those?¡± The query came from Stories just as the two Gods had entered the elevator. Order had begun to tear out a number of pages from her planner and crumple them up into balls of wrinkled parchment; pages that Stories could see pertained to the planets that had already been selected beforehand, which held basic information for those planets like lifeform data and feeding patterns.

    Crucial information, one would assume, for capturing subjects for testing.

    ¡°Ha! Like you¡¯d care, after your blundering about just ruined days of meticulous planning.¡± Order scoffed, cramming the balls of paper into her pouch for disposal at a later period. ¡°There¡¯s no point to using any of these if I¡¯m limited to a single planet for every test. So I¡¯m making do. I¡¯ll reselect my testing sites based on new criteria and formulate a new course of action.¡±

    ¡°Criteria like¡­?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to know. All the God of Life and Creation has empowered you to do is merely to observe and speak up if you want me to halt. You¡¯ve lost all rights to get to learn more about my selections beforehand the second you decided to sabotage my experiment. From now on, all information relating to the chosen planets are on a need-to-know basis - specifically that you don¡¯t need to know any of it.¡± Stories looked at her incredulously, his mouth hanging open from shock at the audacity of her to obscure vital information from someone that was participating in the experiment.

    ¡°Are you seriously this petty? If I don¡¯t know about the mortals we¡¯ll be working with-¡°

    ¡°Don¡¯t overstep your bounds, fool.¡± Order snapped back, seething with rage. She had the methodology of the transmission down now ¨C if required, she could use her own ability to demonstrate it to the lesser Gods recruited for her tests. There was zero need for the God of Stories to still be tagging along: if she needed someone to slip in and out of the divine realm to ferry new Gods to her location, she¡¯d only need to get a hold of one of the tens of lesser Gods returning for a refill of their divine energy reserves weekly. If it weren¡¯t for Life¡¯s command, she¡¯d have long dismissed the simpleton and carried out the experiment herself.

    ¡°You¡¯re the God of Life and Creation¡¯s errand boy - not my better. Learn the distinction. Now, isn¡¯t there someone you need to go pick up now, errand boy?¡±

    ¡°¡­you really are a piece of work, you know that? Anyways, I¡¯d have gone by now, (after all, who¡¯d want to stick around with you?), but this stupid thing¡¯s still pointing to Renewal¡¯s position. And I don¡¯t know how to-¡±

    Order ripped the aura scanner from his hands. Idiot. Typical.

    ¡°Whoa! No need to get all physical just ¡®cause you¡¯re mad at me. I¡¯d have handed it over if you just asked nicely.¡± Order didn¡¯t reply, simply working wordlessly with the dial on the side to bring up the saved data for the next lesser God on the list.

    ¡°There. God of Survival. Genesis 15. Leave.¡±

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    She tossed the black box at Stories, who caught the projectile with both hands. He opened his mouth to throw out one last indignant taunt, then decided against it, turning instead to phase through the side of the metal box. What was the point of fuelling her anger? In the end, he was still the one who¡¯d have to work with her, and he didn¡¯t need her screwing up and murdering a bunch of mortals ¨C again ¨C just because her mind was clouded with anger at him, at Life, and the new conditions she was working under. Better to just back off and let her cool down by her lonesome during the period of time that he was gone to collect Survival.

    This small gesture of goodwill was left unnoticed, of course, as when the elevator doors finally opened again, she¡¯d stormed out angrily towards the nearest bookshelf, thoughts still swirling with rage. The floor she was on was the same as before ¨C floor 223. Planets within Dimensional Wall.

    While inwardly she was still fuming, frustrated at all the stumbling blocks that had been scattered in front of her path, outwardly she¡¯d shifted into her problem-solving mode, discarding all extraneous thoughts about getting back at those that had wronged her. The only things left in her mind was a general sense of bitterness and the ever-present need to prove her superiority.

    So Life wanted to restrict her in this way and that? Fine, if that was his intention, then the kiddy gloves were off. She removed the first ten tomes of recorded planetary data from the bookshelf closest to the elevator, with the intention to select all testing grounds solely from these ten books.

    The choice of these books in particular was due to the fact that they pertained to the planets closest to the divine realm proper ¨C in other words, the most intelligent and longest lived of the mortals in all of reality at any given point in time.

    Oh Life, your daughter has heard you loud and clear, she thought defiantly. You want extrapolation? I¡¯ll give you extrapolation. It wasn¡¯t hard to see why this was the only logical choice ¨C in her mind, if she¡¯d selected for dumb, shorter-lived mortals like she had done before, any success with them might earn a scoff from Life, perhaps a quip from him to double-check her work for mistakes. Why would he care about a few ducks or horses on planets that he would never visit?

    No, the root cause of why that oh-so-powerful God was on this quest in the first place, the quest which consumed his every waking moment, was solely because of those initial interactions with intelligent mortals. The ones that could communicate with him, that could endear themselves to him. The ones that died just a few decades too soon - just as he¡¯d fallen in love with them.

    She should have just done this from the beginning; if Life¡¯s goal was to improve these mortals, any tests other than ones involving them would have been pointless. To hell with back-ups and control groups! If she had to produce results with limited tries, she¡¯d skip straight to last-stage testing with the desired target mortals.

    Of the restrictions placed on me, nothing prevents me from testing with developed mortal lifeforms, Order reasoned. If Life wanted me to keep away from them, he should have specified in detail exactly which planets and which species I should refrain from touching. Therefore, I have his implicit consent to conduct testing on any mortal I wish.

    But deep in the back of her mind, she knew that it was a technicality ¨C that Life didn¡¯t give the go-ahead for this course of action. She was being stubbornly pedantic; there was absolutely no way that Life intended for her to touch those precious gems of his even if it was for the sake of making them sparkle and shine. Even if he hadn¡¯t interacted with them for centuries now.

    His one and only approach to solving this problem for four centuries and counting was attempting to pointlessly cover the boundless Sea of Stars with Gods of his making, to have them assist him with spreading a dusting of godly aura onto the bodies of mortals - a herculean task that would take an uncountable amount of time. Even discounting the fact that the Sea of Stars was constantly expanding, it would take millennia for one God to produce enough lesser gods to cover even a tenth of it; let alone all of it. Considering all of this, it was apparent that he was afraid of what might happen if he interacted directly with those mortals that he cherished - if he caught wind of what she was intending to do, she might even see him blow up in rage at her for the first time in her life.

    That didn¡¯t matter to her, though. What she wanted at the moment wasn¡¯t accurate data or useful results. No, what she wanted now, the desired objective that her impeccable problem-solving mind had been working towards wasn¡¯t something as trivial as that.

    What she really wanted was payback for the slights directed at her.

    So her selections would remain the same ¨C intelligent mortals.

    The ones that Life loved.

 Chapter 19

    The God of Survival was one of the more ¡°hands-on¡± deities in the pantheon of gods he belonged to. Well, at least he liked to think of himself as such. All gods had their quirks, be it the overly cautious and self-serving actions of Greed, or displaying unabashedly lascivious eroticism in every aspect of her life like Love. Their personalities were, of course, influenced mainly by their calling. It stood to reason that when one devotes many centuries of existence to a singular purpose, their actions would eventually be distilled down to only serve that need.

    Survival¡¯s ¡°quirk¡±, was that he did things the manly way. Survival as a concept was elegant in its simplicity: the strongest and fittest would be granted the privilege to live on, while the weak and frail would perish and wither to make fertilizer for nourishing their betters. Naturally, the God representing this ideal would be one commanding immense power and unending vitality.

    However, the ego of one wielding such strength would usually have been tempered with age. Take the God of War and Hate, for example. He was an Original Existence that understood that there were times when brute force needed to take a back seat to strategy and cunning, and one needed to be modest enough to pick between the two. Simply obliterating everything in your path with your fists just couldn¡¯t accomplish every goal that you were working towards - even if it was extremely satisfying to do so.

    And Survival? Well, he was a young God - merely two decades old. Hardly any time at all for his soul to mature and ripen to the point where he understood the importance of switching between the two.

    Absolutely no humility ran through his veins.

    After all, why should an Adonis like him skulk away in the shadows and shine his godly aura from afar as that senile old fool Life intended? The mortals should be worshipping him, every flex of his rippling muscles and every glimpse of his glorious, glistening figure. They should be falling to their feet as he walked amongst them, weeping tears of unbridled joy as he strutted around displaying his superiority. It would be a damned crying shame to deprive their mundane, meaningless lives of the magnificent honor of prostrating before his divinity.

    As you could expect, this arrogant God chose not to spread his gift of life equally to mortals in the sector of space that he¡¯d laid down roots in. Why should dumb animals that couldn¡¯t even understand the concept of reverence be worthy of longer lifespans? He only bestowed the gift of life onto those that he approved of ¨C the ones that had the brains to understand the blessing he was giving them. One wouldn¡¯t be much surprised to find that the only mortals in Genesis 15 that had benefitted from Survival¡¯s presence, having their average life expectancy increased to eight decades from their previous three, were also the only mortals in that sector of stars that had already developed a hierarchical society. With their current leader, of course, being the God of Survival.

    It wasn¡¯t hard for Stories to find his target when he finally entered the region known as Genesis 15. For gods¡¯ sake, the entire planet where he resided was the only celestial body for miles about that was lit up in his field of view. Lesser Gods could make out the auras of their peers, sure, but this was the first time that Stories had seen something like this. Usually, the aura of another lesser god would be visible from afar, a small speck of bright light which flickered and cut out intermittently. This was the result of energy conservation, since lesser gods learnt quickly enough that if they wanted to stay around a planet for a long period of time, a small and sustained flame was better than a big and bright spark.

    What Stories was seeing went entirely against this unspoken logic; the entire planet in front of him was shimmering a dark red, engulfed in a sphere of the lesser God¡¯s aura.

    ¡°Geez,¡± he whispered in awe. ¡°bet he visits Life once every week if he¡¯s burning that much all the time.¡± After another few minutes of gawking at the irresponsible wastage of divine energy, Stories jetted towards the brightest point of the energy field ¨C its epicenter, which periodically projected the red pulsations of energy which maintained the integrity of the thick film of godly aura.

    As he touched down onto the bare rock of the planet, he took in his surroundings. The civilisation was still in its early stages of development, it seemed. Instead of houses of brick and stone, the homes of the natives were constructed with sticks and straw. But while he stood there, he slowly began to get the sense that something was¡­ off.

    These huts had to have been built small on purpose. This society obviously had developed intelligence enough to build shelters against the elements. But if that was the case, then it didn¡¯t make sense. Why would one choose to live in something so easily destructible? Why not chop down trees and use logs instead for a more permanent residence? In a thunderstorm these fragile dwellings would collapse within minutes, ripped apart by billowing winds and rain. Stories placed a hand on the wall of one of these straw huts, fingers running across thin twigs desperately secured together by vines knotted across its width. Survival should have an answer for me, he thought. Leaving the straw huts behind, he continued on foot towards the red glow in the distance.

    As he continued on, his feet brushed against a new texture ¨C polished, smooth stone. That couldn¡¯t be right. He took a few steps back. Rough, jagged gravel. Then stepped a few steps forward. Smooth, slippery stone. Now his confusion had deepened further. The natives had the time to painstakingly flatten out and sand down the edges of the floor which they tread upon, but didn¡¯t spare any effort on upgrading their housing? And why start polishing the ground only after leaving the housing area? If the intention was to make the flooring more pleasant to walk on, why not create paths and maintain those instead? Curiouser and curiouser.

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    ¡°Oh.¡± The matter-of-fact statement escaped his open lips as he finally understood the reason for this discrepancy between logic and reality. Standing in front of his eyes was a large, imposing structure of red granite ¨C an altar of sorts ¨C with massive stone steps leading to its apex. At its very top, a giant lounged on a throne of obsidian, serviced by two blue skinned humanoid females ¨C the natives, probably.

    Stories kicked off the ground to propel himself to the top of the altar. Lesser Gods were more solid in the human realms, so they could interact with objects around them with ease. And Stories liked this feature very much; after all, personal experience was important to the ability to inject realism into literary works, so when he was in the mortal realm he¡¯d do as the natives did, walking on his own two feet, suppressing his powers to the level of a slightly more durable mortal. But he¡¯d seen enough here for him to release the cap on his godly abilities. It was obvious that this was indulgence; everything around him was the result of a lesser God getting drunk off of the power of domination over beings weaker than themselves.

    ¡°Well, ain¡¯t this a surprise? One of you high-and-mighty Gods coming down from your heavenly palace to visit my domain of dirt and stone?¡± The deep, booming voice came from the man on the throne, addressing Stories as he approached. An arrogant, prideful tone that only one who knew no defeat could muster. Coming to the front of the throne, Stories slowly brought his gaze upwards to meet the eyes of the God of Survival. And kept raising his head. Holy crap, he thought. This dude¡¯s like, three times my size. Survival apparently didn¡¯t believe much in clothing either, because he was fully bare-chested, with only a rough piece of fabric wrapped around his waist.

    He gulped. ¡°Hi, uh, God of Survival? I¡¯m the God of Stories,¡± He left out his secondary title ¨C he felt a bit embarrassed appending his unofficial self-assigned title in front of someone that looked like he could fold him five times over with ease. ¡°So err, what¡¯s up with the big red energy bubble, dude?¡±

    The brute smirked. ¡°You¡¯re asking about my aura, huh? Pretty cool eh, mate? These mortals,¡± Survival paused to pull one of the alien women to his side, the woman responding with flustered giggles. ¡°with a little help from a display of my absolute power, now all serve me. Their new purpose in life is to do my bidding ¨C which is just as these weaklings deserve. I give them protection, and they return that tenfold in divine power. Who needs approval from that old coot Life; I get my supply from a whole planet of these livestock.¡±

    Geez, Stories thought. Kinda laying it on a little thick there, friend. ¡°Well, ok, I was just wondering if you could spare some time to¡­ help out with a test a colleague of mine is conducting?¡±

    ¡°Help?¡± The perfect specimen of a man stood up, dismissing the two natives that had been hand feeding him some sort of yellow fruit. They shuffled off to the side, waiting for the next command from their master. Ok, correction, Stories thought. Five times my size.

    ¡°If you want my help, you¡¯ll need to best me in a contest of strength. Why should I submit to someone weaker than me? Don¡¯t make sense, eh, mate?¡±

    Ooh. That would be¡­ not ideal. Stories was pretty sure he¡¯d get pummelled into paste if he took up that offer.

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t think I¡¯d win, so I¡¯ll respectfully pass on that. Would it help if¡­ I said the God of Order and Knowledge is the one asking?¡± It was a long shot, but he tried the flimsy gambit anyways. No way was that hag¡¯s name going to sway this brute.

    ¡°Order?¡± The boastful tone faltered. The titan of masculinity seemed to shrink several sizes, his previously cocky demeanour nowhere to be seen now. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you lead with that, mate? If it¡¯s a request from her¡­ yeah, sure, I¡¯ll go along with you.¡±

    Huh. That was surprisingly easy, Stories thought. ¡°Well, alright, just follow me back to the divine realm, then. She¡¯s working on a big project for Life so we¡¯ll need to get back as soon as we can." Survival nodded anxiously, waving hurriedly at the two native women to leave his side. Stories took off first, with Survival tagging along behind, heading back to their realm.

    Wait a minute, Stories mused. Order met with this orc before, didn¡¯t she? No way was she getting anything useful out of him if he was this full of himself all the time. He¡¯d probably just talk over her the entire interview and ramble on about his muscles or something. But¡­ she had all the basic details on him recorded down in a book. His power set, appearance¡­ stuff like that. The only way someone could get anything from that one-track mind brute¡­ would be if they¡¯d beaten him at his own game. Stories thought about it a little longer, then dismissed the thought with a nervous chuckle.

    Nah, there¡¯s no way she could have beaten him up; if Survival was five times the size of Stories, then he¡¯d be something like five and a half Order¡¯s stacked one on top of the other. No way would she have won a fight against that giant.

    Right?

 Chapter 20

    ¡°Took you long enough.¡± Order said coldly as she noted the two lesser Gods coming up from the cavity in the center of the Library. She couldn¡¯t have missed them even if she tried; Survival literally spanned the height of two floors of her Library. Bit hard to ignore a skyscraper rising up from the ground. But the reason for Order¡¯s apathetic response wasn¡¯t due to the twinge of discontentment from having to work with that twat Stories again.

    Well, maybe a little.

    No, the actual reason for her irritation was that even accounting for the increased distance Stories required to travel compared to his first trip, he¡¯d overshot her estimates by a little over two days. Not that it mattered much, she supposed. It wasn¡¯t as if the test site was going to vanish if they were late by a few days. Still annoying, though.

    Stories was messing up her plans. Again.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me, lady.¡± Stories raised his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Mr Survival over here insisted on checking out every sizable planet we passed on our way back. Said something about ¡®wanting to expand his worshipper base¡¯ - yeah, I don¡¯t get it either.¡± He prodded the giant in his right thigh, who cleared his throat and swatted at the offending finger. The Stories pre-meeting with Survival might have balked at the sight of future him actively provoking his towering associate, with the understandable reason of not wanting to get crushed into an unrecognizable ovoid of God-flesh. Which would probably then be dribbled about like a basketball by said crusher.

    But this was post-meeting Stories. He¡¯d had time during the journey to get to know his junior, and one thing he learned about the experience was that the phrase, ¡°Looks can be deceiving¡±? Was one that could apply in every situation ¨C including when dealing with people five times your size.

    Stories had unwittingly discovered one of Survival¡¯s crippling weaknesses through trial-and-error. (Mostly error.) Outside of anything that required brute strength, the great and mighty God of Survival was woefully underequipped.

    There was many a time during the week-long journey where Survival had gotten incensed at something or another that Stories had done and winded up to throw a punch at the puny weakling. But before he could do anything particularly pummel-y, the gears of his brain would start to creak and grind to life, spitting out a line of reasoning to stay his already-raised hand.

    Survival was subservient to Order. And Stories - he was Order¡¯s colleague. If Stories got hurt and tattled to Order, she might be angry with Survival and punish him in some way. That meant that no matter how much Survival wanted to beat the twerp up¡­ he was unfortunately off-limits. Stories hadn¡¯t noticed the first few times Survival had raised a hand in anger only to then lower it back to his sides.

    But when he did catch on ¨C and he did catch on pretty quickly ¨C he¡¯d tried to test the giant¡¯s limits by deliberately slipping in a taunt here and there about how Survival was only picking on those weaker than him in the kingdom of mortals he¡¯d created, or how the manly God would probably flee if he had to fight a real opponent like one of the Original Existences.

    Each time Survival would clench a fist tight, raise it, then slowly unclench the fist and lower it back down. You could probably attribute about half a day or so of the delay to Stories and his antics; and yeah, the first few times of poking at the big guy was to confirm his initial suspicions.

    The next thirty pokes was because he was starting to have a bit of fun watching the titan¡¯s reaction of barely repressed rage.

    If you asked Stories to quantify traits as numbers on a character stats page, Survival would have a perfect 10 in STR; and 2s across the board for everything else.

    A classic dumb warrior, if you would.

    Order arched an eyebrow at a word Stories had mentioned. ¡°Worshippers?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s quite brilliant, really. He has a planet in Genesis 15; you should see the thing yourself. Whole place enclosed in a full bubble of his aura. Mental. Especially since, y¡¯know, he isn¡¯t getting subsidized by handouts from good ol¡¯ Lifey. But... it¡¯s probably because the entire planet treats him as their God king. I mean, they live in shabby little huts while he gets a whole freaking altar dedicated to his ass.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Order cupped her chin with her hand. Interesting; someone had actually put her theory into action ¨C and it seemed to be working swimmingly if he could create and sustain such a dense expression of godly aura that it filled the skies of a whole planet. Based on her projections she¡¯d expected that the results would have been a lot more disappointing, something more akin to fueling a lightbulb with a potato battery.

    Now that she knew that it was viable, all she¡¯d have to do would be to refine the method for use with her particular¡­ circumstances. And if a lout like Survival could achieve something like this just through using brute force to instill fear in his subjects, she¡¯d be able to elevate that to greater heights by employing other tactics. Brainwashing or conditioning, perhaps. He would have likely not even exploited the resources at his disposal to their fullest. If she were to do it, she might even be able to squeeze out another thirty or so percent of god juice out of the mortals. She made a mental note to follow up with Survival after the end of the experiment for more details.

    ¡°If I may¡­ interject? Thank you. My greetings to you again, Madam Order.¡± The uncharacteristically humble words came from the large titan¡¯s mouth. Order acknowledged his deference with a sharp nod.

    ¡°Likewise, God of Survival. I see you¡¯ve changed since our last encounter. Good to see that you¡¯ve learnt a modicum of respect.¡± Alright, Stories thought. I can¡¯t take it anymore ¨C I have to know. He pulled Order aside out of earshot of Survival and huddled down in the corner. Order was slightly peeved at the act, but allowed him to pull her in nonetheless.

    ¡°How, pray tell, did you get that brute to listen to you - let alone call you madam?! When I first met the bloke, he was all loud and arrogant; I mean, he even challenged me to a damn duel, for god¡¯s sake! What¡¯d you do, threaten to gut him in his sleep or something?¡±

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    Ah, she thought. The cretin wants to know how I tamed the great beast, hmm?

    Order was still slightly annoyed with Stories, of course ¨C he was the reason why all her plans had been thrown into disarray.

    But she could never resist an opportunity to flaunt her superiority to other Gods.

    ¡°Simple. I took him up on his offer - and won. Just that simple.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ WON?!¡± Stories exclaimed, still maintaining a hushed whisper. ¡°What, like at chess or something?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Ooh, just watching the shocked expression on the imbecile¡¯s face gave her tingles of joy. Yes, this was how it was supposed to be: the inferior God recognising her obvious superiority.

    ¡°I trounced him completely. Yes - in exactly the way you¡¯re imagining. I laid him flat. I rearranged his face. I subjugated him in every way imaginable, and won with nary a scratch.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± His mouth was hanging all the way open now, the idiot. Fine, she crowed to herself in her mind. Listen to how I managed the feat, and tremble in awe at my greatness.

    ¡°The manoeuver is a straightforward and easily understandable one - yet I believe that of the full pantheon of Original Existences, there would be scarce few that could replicate my solution. War could, probably.¡± She looked over to gauge Stories¡¯ reaction.

    Good, the fool was listening.

    ¡°You understand the mechanics of my ability, yes? Full control over information, with merely a touch?¡± Stories nodded.

    ¡°Then it should be a fairly quick explanation. You see, with any book I touch, any work I interact with, I am able to retrieve a full understanding of the history behind their creation by simply willing it to be. I am able to pick the brain of its creator without having to speak with them directly and persuade them to provide me with their reasoning. This, of course, goes the same for books on martial arts - especially styles which involve incapacitating a foe larger and stronger than you are. And yes, full understanding means precisely that ¨C I become a complete master of that skill in an instant. With that in mind, it would be a trivial matter to dispatch someone that relies solely on his stature and innate physical prowess.¡±

    Order was practically beaming now; she loved to demonstrate her intellectual supremacy to her fellow Gods, and rattling off exactly how she¡¯d bested a professional at their own game gave her a healthy serving of self-confidence.

    ¡°I am the master of around two hundred and fifty seven styles of martial arts, gathered over the years from long past civilisations; I daresay I could hold my own against any one of the other Gods specialising in brutality.¡±

    Over the course of her explanation, Order¡¯s chest had been gradually puffing outwards, her chin slowly tilting upwards in arrogance. Stories was frankly starting to get a little annoyed himself at how much the female God was praising herself.

    Wow, great, so you relied on a crutch you were born with to beat him. Nothing to do with outwitting him or tricking him or whatever. Big whoop. Better bring her down a few notches from her high horse, Stories thought. Don''t want her hopped up on ego juice right before we''re starting an experiment involving the lives of countless mortals.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s cool. Very inspiring. Don¡¯t want to burst your bubble or anything, since I can tell you¡¯re having a lot of fun reminiscing about how you beat up the mental equivalent of a small child, but don¡¯t we have an experiment to run? It¡¯s why Survival''s even here, after all. The sooner we finish this, the quicker he gets to go back to his walled kingdom of mortals.¡±

    Order snapped out of her indulgent haze of self-absorption.

    Right. The experiment.

    She coughed once in embarrassment. ¡°Well, that¡¯s the entire story.¡± Order turned to address Survival.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving momentarily for Blessed 26 ¨C the home of the long-eared humanoids.¡±

    Stories did a double take at her words. That wasn¡¯t the plan. He grabbed her arm and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

    ¡°Wait ¨C 26? What happened to the other two selections? The thousand-five hundred something and the two-thousand something? I distinctly remember you picking planets closer to the Dimensional Wall to minimize the experiment¡¯s effects on the more intelligent and advanced mortal civilisations. What happened to the stuff you said to Life and all that?¡±

    Order shrugged off the grip, looking at the temporarily solid palm with distaste. That was twice now he¡¯d burnt divine energy just to get her attention. The fool didn¡¯t know how to conserve energy.

    ¡°That was the old plan ¨C the plan which I assumed would encompass a great many testing sites. Not just one per God. This new plan sacrifices that smaller footprint for better, more relevant data.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you run it by Life first? I¡¯m assuming he¡¯d have something to say about your decision. I''ll pop over and get his input.¡± Stories turned to float up towards the surface.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Order called out to halt him in his tracks. She scoffed.

    ¡°What do you take me for, an imbecile like you? Of course I¡¯ve asked; he¡¯s given his reluctant approval - just so long as we don¡¯t take it too far.¡± She hadn¡¯t, of course, actually asked. What was the point of revenge if you announce it to your target beforehand? The lie was merely there to allow her to carry the plan out fully without interruption from resident busybody Stories.

    ¡°Well¡­ if he¡¯s already agreed¡­¡± Stories shifted uncomfortably in the air, still a little uneasy at the idea. He had half a mind to go anyways ¨C to corroborate her account with Life himself. After all, he¡¯d already been tricked by her once before. Best not to rely on her words again.

    Then again, he thought, stopping himself. The old man¡¯s already appointed me as his proxy. As long as I keep her on a relatively short leash and yank it at the first sign of trouble¡­ it¡¯ll probably be OK, right?

    How much trouble could one simple test even cause, anyways?

 Chapter 21

    ¡°Leffy, stop messing around. I can¡¯t drain all these deer carcasses by myself if you don¡¯t help out.¡± The exasperated voice came from a female currently crouched over the bodies of five dead mammals. She held a bloodied, dull blade which she was using to systematically sever the throats of these animals, proceeding then to sling them over a low hanging branch to allow the juices and liquid viscera to drip out. Each deer had a single arrow sticking from some vital organ, accurately pierced during the short hunt before. Elves on Blessed 26 were trained from young to hit fast moving targets from a mile away, after all.

    ¡°Buuu¡­ You can handle all that boring stuff, Treen. I told you before we set out, I¡¯m only coming along for the fun parts, the shooting bits and the chase. Maybe to help carry back the spoils ¨C definitely not to go rummaging about their guts or whatever.¡±

    The female elf¡¯s companion, the one engrossing himself by poking at an anthill with the tip of his bow, was Treen¡¯s younger brother, Leffy. The two had been tasked with bringing back dinner for the week, which was apparently going to be deer for the foreseeable future. Again.

    Leffy sighed.

    It wasn¡¯t that deer was unpalatable; on the contrary, the elves prepared deer meat with a special dark sauce that rid the flesh of its gaminess and left it tasting quite hearty, an invigorating burning sensation which permeated the body as one swallowed each slice of meat. But as you can imagine, eating anything for a week straight would make anyone balk.

    Well, Leffy thought, if I had my way, we¡¯d probably continue tracking a little further out. I heard from Barkly that a little past the Breezy Plains there¡¯s way more variety in game. Rabbits, birds ¨C even bears! He drooled a little at the thought of bear meat. It wasn¡¯t often they¡¯d get to savour the melt-in-your-mouth goodness of wild bear; hell, it¡¯d been about four decades since he¡¯d last tasted the treat, back during his coming of age ceremony ¨C a grand event that all able elves took part in.

    It wasn¡¯t like elves popped out babies like rabbits either, so ceremonies celebrating young elves becoming adults ¨C and therefore the chance to have that coveted bear meat - were few and far between. In fact, Leffy was the youngest of their tribe, so the only way he¡¯d get more of that delicacy was if he was accompanied by one of his older siblings on a longer hunt in more distant lands. But as long as Treen was around, there was no way that was going to happen anytime in the next five decades.

    He shot a scowl at his older sister, who was still busying herself with the cleaning of edible organs in a nearby stream. She was way too protective. Whenever they went on hunts, she¡¯d lay down ground rules like: Don¡¯t go any further than eight stone throws from the living spaces! Or: if the animal is twice your size, leave and let it go by!

    For goodness sake, he was fifty-six already! It wasn¡¯t as if he was some forty year-old stripling that needed everything spoon-fed to him! So what if he couldn¡¯t sprint as fast as her or his other seniors? Footwork like that only mattered if you had to retreat from a foe stronger and more vicious than you were. So as long as you took down your quarry from range, skill in escaping was irrelevant. And his bow-work was impeccable! Of the five deer they¡¯d hunted today, he¡¯d taken down three - one more than her!<u>

    </u>

    ¡°Leffy, I¡¯m not asking twice. Get over here and help. If you¡¯re not going to assist in cleaning the meat, at least help out with removing the hide, or organising the portions in the bag. You understand that this is all for your own good, right? I can¡¯t always be there to help you with all these details, so you¡¯ll need to learn by doing. Practice makes perfect.¡±

    Leffy groaned at her nagging, but obediently slung his bow back onto his back and dragged his feet over to help sort out the cuts of meat in the woven leather bag. Hunting for the elven people was a ritual of conversing with nature - of proving that they deserved to survive. Sure, in hardier times they could fall back on the sap farms for sustenance, it produced enough food for their people to weather even the longest droughts and could be kept without spoilage for an absurdly long amount of time. But hunting would always be the first option when it came to food.

    It was the act of besting animals that were allowed to roam freely, that had every opportunity to struggle and improve in their own habitats at their own pace - that were blessed with superior agility like the deer, or great might like the bears, or endowed with a supernatural sense for avoiding danger like the rabbits. Killing any of these creatures showed that the elves were worthy of continuing to receive the grace of the gods.

    Of course, none of that was actually related to the true reason for their long lives, heightened physical ability and great ocular acuity ¨C the fact that they were situated with great proximity to the divine realms itself.

    Still, in accordance to the meaning that they''d assigned to hunting, the elves made sure not to waste any part of their prey. It was only right to find a use for every spoil of the hunt, so as to give thanks to the land for providing them with the chance to enjoy these luxuries. Meat became food on the table. The animal hides became clothing and accessories. Bones were fashioned into ornaments and occasionally into arrow-tips or weapons. And the viscera would nourish the earth and enrich the soil, returning to the ground and perhaps becoming a new leaf on a branch of a tree or turning into a blooming flower to adorn a bush.

    Treen found this process of death and rebirth meaningful. Even in demise the organisms of the world still contributed to keeping the planet and those that walked its surface alive. It was a beautiful, magical cycle.

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    Her younger brother, however, didn¡¯t see things from the same high-minded perspective - he just liked killing things. Leffy¡¯ll come around eventually, she thought, plucking a parasite from a cut of thigh meat. I mean, I was like that in my younger years, too. All belligerent and haughty. Time makes saints of us all, I suppose.

    A wistful smile grew on her face as she reminisced about her own rebellious behaviour when she was fifty-six. Always wanting to take shortcuts, to do things faster and ignore rules that were meant to keep her safe. Look at her now ¨C a mere forty years passing was enough to teach her to take things slow, to savour each moment. Elves had all the time in the world to stretch out and experience the small wonders of life, so there was no need to rush and blunder about.

    ¡°There ¨C done. Can we go now? If we aren¡¯t going to hunt any more, I¡¯d much rather go back and work on my hand-to-hand knife skills with Barkly.¡± Treen pulled the bag over to her side to inspect his work. She sighed as she transferred a couple of misplaced portions of meat to their correct groupings. Sloppy as always. Why couldn¡¯t he put as much effort into learning the more mundane details of the hunt as he did combat skills or archery?

    ¡°Alright, fine. Give me a moment to tie the meat up and we¡¯ll head back.¡± Treen tossed the meat she was washing back into the sack and started binding the piles of cleaned protein loosely with twine. Then, after burying the guts and other grisly bits that were deemed too vile to consume in a shallow pit under the shade of a particularly scrawny tree, the two elves each grasped onto one handle of the bag which was now filled with the processed remains of their hunt and made the trek back to their home in the trees.

    The elves of Blessed 26 made their cozy homes in the canopies of large redwood trees ¨C treehouses, if you would. It was perfect for them since these trees provided everything one needed to survive. Shelter ¨C the dense branches and leaf covering deflected rain, wind and hail alike, only allowing small trickles of water to drip through. Food ¨C the trees themselves produced a gooey, thick sap that was as sweet as honey and shared similar qualities with regards to the amount of time it took to go bad. Water ¨C in a pinch, the branches of the tree could be snapped off and squeezed in a press to obtain a source of fresh water, which was useful if the nearby stream ever ran dry. Protection ¨C the only access to these houses was via scaling the trunk of the redwood it was constructed on, meaning that save for birds or animals with the intelligence and strength to climb the steep bark for minutes on end, there was no threat to the elves that they wouldn¡¯t see coming from a mile away.

    ¡°¡­who¡¯s that, Treen? It doesn¡¯t look like one of our kind.¡± Treen snapped out of her thoughts at the cautious tone from her brother. She looked up and scanned the treeline for the intruder and finally found what she was searching for.

    A figure ¨C a woman with a brown bob cut, dressed entirely in white ¨C a pigment that the elves did not have a dye for. She held no bow nor knife, yet looked entirely unfazed at the likelihood that she might encounter trouble. Treen¡¯s instincts told her that this was a confidence that only the strong could possess. Yet all this lady was doing was standing there at the foot of the redwood trees that the elves had built their houses in, staring up into the branches. Watching.

    Or more likely, looking for a way up.

    Treen motioned for her brother to drop the bag and take aim at the stranger. ¡°I¡¯ll go talk to her; you hang back and cover me.¡± Leffy nodded, retrieving the bow slung around his shoulder and notching a bone arrow from his quiver. Treen armed herself with the blade she¡¯d been using to dismantle the deer with and proceeded with caution.

    She approached the woman warily, slowly and gradually making her way towards the foreigner in a hunched posture, all bodily senses tuned and ready to bolt at the first sign that this stranger was hostile, gripping the small blade she wielded with white knuckles. As she got closer, Treen¡¯s eyes noted that the stranger didn¡¯t share the same pointed ears that all elves had; hers was rounded at the end. Definitely wasn¡¯t from around here.

    She called out.

    ¡°Hey there, lady. What brings you here to our humble dwelling, here in the trees? Certainly not to mean us any harm, I hope?¡± The white lady turned around at the noise, gaze locking onto the elven girl. Treen felt a shiver run down her back as the stranger examined her curiously, head cocked to one side. The white lady¡¯s face was emotionless, as if she was regarding an insect, an ant, far beneath her dignity. Then creepily, the blank face gradually formed a faint smile.

    ¡°I see, Greed¡¯s been here before, then. Probably left a bit of his influence with your ancestors while he was plundering something or other. I suppose that¡¯s why you can speak God.¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡± The stranger spoke in words that made no sense to Treen, yet it seemed that for the moment, the white lady did not mean the elves harm. Treen signalled to Leffy to lower his bow with a wave of her hand, eyes still trained on the foreigner.

    ¡°Oh. Where are my manners?¡± The white lady enunciated, a clear and even tone. Words that were clinical and calculated, as if rehearsed many times over, like she was putting on a show for the elves that were before her.  The stranger bowed deeply.

    ¡°You may address me as the God of Order and Knowledge.¡±

    ¡°And I am here today to bestow onto your people a great blessing.¡±

 Chapter 22

    ¡°Ok, we¡¯re literally heading for Blessed 26 right this very moment; now can you tell me more about the mortal species?¡± Stories whined as the three flew in the direction of their next experiment site.

    ¡°And as I¡¯ve mentioned before; outside of what they look like, you don¡¯t need to know any more. You¡¯ll just find another way to mess things up. Like you did with Renewal.¡±

    ¡°Hey, that whole debacle was YOUR screw-up! Not mine.¡± The lesser God huffed and crossed his arms in indignation. ¡°You get in here too, Survival. Surely you have some sort of gripe with this damned hag too?¡±

    ¡°No, mate. All good here from me. Whatever madam Order says, goes.¡± The giant meekly replied, nary a hint of the brash masculinity that he¡¯d displayed when Stories had first met him.

    Geez, Stories thought. I know Order said she beat him up, but you¡¯d think after a year or two he¡¯d have forgotten about the whole thrashing dealio. Oh wait, I suppose that¡¯s why he¡¯s projecting his aura around the planet in such a flashy manner. It¡¯s over-compensation for a bruised ego - gotta show strength any way you can if you¡¯ve been trounced by someone way weaker than you. It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t get where he¡¯s coming from, though - I mean, if I got beaten up by Truth, I¡¯d probably want to crawl into a small cubby hole and cry too.

    The thought conjured up an image of the airheaded woman delivering two quick right jabs to his ribcage, followed up by a haymaker to his chin, all while grinning goofily. Stories shuddered at that imaginary scenario. Yeah, if that actually happened in real life, he¡¯d probably be as traumatized as Survival was. The disconnect between the weak impression that Order gave off and the absolute obliteration Survival received in their bout probably etched itself deeply into his mind; to the point that he¡¯d throw away all semblance of his pride and arrogance and submit to whatever she desired.

    In a way, Stories mused, it¡¯s exactly in line with his beliefs; the strongest takes it all, and the weakest has to fall. Can¡¯t argue with that!

    ¡°Well, alright, can you at least tell us where they live? Probably necessary if you¡¯re going to want us to go pick up a couple of them to plop in a corner for testing.¡±

    Order glowered at the lesser God. Did he need to ask so many questions? Just shut up and do as you¡¯re told.

    ¡°They live in trees, alright? From my notes, their entire lives revolve around large, sturdy trees which house wooden structures where they sleep and play. Like less hairy, slightly more developed primates. They only occasionally leave their treetop abodes to scavenge for food and water, so it¡¯ll be more expedient to grab them from their homes. On the other hand, it¡¯ll be a massive waste of divine energy if we have to go that route. I suppose if we¡¯re forced to, we can make camp at the foot of one of these trees, and pick them off one by one while they depart to gather supplies.¡±

    ¡°Monkeys, huh? Are you sure those notes are up to date?¡± Stories scratched his head in thought. ¡°Cause there¡¯s a world of difference between the planet a few centuries ago and now, y¡¯know? And that, whatchamacallit, divine aura from the divine realm? That¡¯d probably speed up the growth of a species, right?¡±

    Order rolled the idea over in her mind. The fool¡­ had a point. Since Blessed 26 was so close to the divine realm, it would have been one of the first few planets that she¡¯d documented. And yeah, at the time, the long eared humanoids ¨C elves, she¡¯d called them ¨C had been slightly more developed monkeys, only capable of communicating with one another using a series of grunts and rough vocalisations. Stuff akin to warning each other of danger, or getting one¡¯s attention. The lifeforms she¡¯d encountered at the time didn¡¯t even have the mental wherewithal to wear clothing to keep warm on cold days. They¡¯d huddled together on the trees they lived on, shuddering as they pulled each other¡¯s bodies close to raise their body temperature.

    But all of that would have been just under six centuries ago.

    Which was why when Order finally met one of the native mortals face-to-face, who had called out to her instead of the other way around, she was rather intrigued by the stark differences between her initial impressions and their current stage of development. They¡¯d begun to use implements like bow and arrows to hunt for food. Judging from the large bag next to the male elf, they were quite proficient at the task, too. On top of that, the two were clothed in animal skin, stitched together with woven thread. Monkeys, they certainly were not. And most interesting of all, they spoke in the Godly tongue ¨C something that only mortals that had interacted with Gods would have picked up.

    Well, Order thought. This is a pleasant surprise, to say the least. Intelligence. Yes, intelligence is good. Intelligence means that I won¡¯t have to go to the hassle of dragging them out from their treetops one by one by force. They can be communicated with. And if they can be communicated with, they can be persuaded to leave their homes of their own accord. She smirked to herself. This experiment was going to be done quicker than she¡¯d expected.

    With a bow, the God of Order and Knowledge introduced herself to the two elves before her.

    ¡°You may address me as the God of Order and Knowledge. And I am here today to bestow onto your people a great blessing.¡±

    ======================================================

    Treen shifted uneasily in place. She¡¯d left Leffy down below to watch the so-called God of Order while she returned to meet with the elders and consult with them on what to do in this situation. But rather than take her pleas seriously, the guards had laughed it off when she¡¯d first approached them, shooing her away with a dismissive line or two about how she was sap-drunk. Naturally, the elven girl went straight to the universally understood language: violence. After knocking out the two buffoons, she barged through the door and headed for the inner chambers. This commotion didn¡¯t go unnoticed by another set of guards on the next tree over, who then proceeded to sound the alarm, leading to her having to deal with the following five or so guards as well.

    One thing led to another, and now Treen was standing in front of the eight elven chieftains, bound from head to toe with elaborate rope knots. She¡¯d been asked to explain the reason for her urgency directly to the most respected leaders of their tribe. Under threat of execution, of course.

    ¡°And that,¡± Treen exhaled. ¡°is everything.¡±

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°A God, you say? Surely you jest.¡±

    ¡°What sort of mockery do you intend to throw at our feet?! How exactly do you expect us to respond to this?!¡±

    ¡°Off with her head!¡±

    ¡°Bob, you can¡¯t just decapitate everyone you don¡¯t like.¡±

    ¡°Silence.¡± The singular utterance cut through the clamour and brought the rowdy chatter to a quick end. It was the eldest of the chieftains, Root, that had spoken. He got up slowly, old bones creaking as he pushed himself off the floor with a shaky, unsteady hand. He looked Treen straight in her eyes, and she returned the gaze with a nervous glance. The elder had lost much height with time, his wiry, hunched-over frame only coming up to Treen¡¯s chest. And it had been so much time ¨C if Treen had it correct, around about three centuries. It was a wonder he didn¡¯t disintegrate into a pile of dust by exerting so much effort just to stand up. Root spoke, a weary, seasoned voice coming from aged vocal chords.

    ¡°Young lady, I¡¯ve met a God before as well, so I won¡¯t discount your words as simply as the other elders. He named himself too ¨C a God of Greed. I do believe that on this day, you have indeed met with a deity beyond our understanding. But that isn¡¯t my concern here. What I have to ask is this ¨C the God I knew was self-serving to his core. Yes, he gave us wonderful blessings in the form of the language we speak, and knowledge on the trees that we now derive such great bounties from. But,¡± Root paused, emphasizing the next words he was about to say.

    ¡°he wanted things. Specifically, he wanted an amulet of our people ¨C an artefact that had protected our people for generations. Well, I always believed it was more of a good-luck charm really. Didn¡¯t stop my brother from getting mauled by a bear, anyways. But I don¡¯t think that deity wanted it for the supposed protective qualities our people had mythologized about it. No, I believe he just wanted that fist-sized ruby because it shone in just the right way. Or perhaps he just wanted something of value to us, so that he could hoard it for himself. Or maybe it just caught his eye, and he just had to have it.¡± Root laid a bony palm on Treen¡¯s arm, gripping it with as much force as his withered arm could muster.

    ¡°The question is, what does this God of Order want?¡±

    Treen gulped, still maintaining eye contact with the elven leader. ¡°She didn¡¯t say. She just wanted to meet with a couple of us, and she¡¯d¡­ bless them in some way. To make them stronger. Better.¡±

    Root held the gaze a few moments more, before letting go of her arm, and shakily taking a few steps back to return to his seated position.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve only met one God so far, so it isn¡¯t like I¡¯m an absolute authority on them. For all we know, she could be lying to serve some hidden agenda. But, the one God that I have met, well, he was trustworthy enough to hold up his end of the deal. And from what I can tell, these Gods, their title is exactly what they are. Mine was greedy beyond compare, just like his title. And yours? Yours seems to abide by rules, by structure. I have no doubt in my mind that what she says is not a deception. In her mind, her words serve to further the regulation of order. No matter what form that order may take. I say you acquiesce for now, bring one of Leffy¡¯s friends with you ¨C that boy, Barkly?¡± Root waited for Treen to nod in acknowledgement before continuing.

    ¡°I believe three people will be enough. Just to gauge the effects of this so-called blessing. If there are no adverse effects, well, it won¡¯t be too late to get the rest of the tribe in at that time.¡± Root motioned to a guard to untie the elven girl.

    ¡°But Treen,¡± Root spoke gravely, just as the last of the ropes binding her had fallen to the ground. ¡°at the first sign of trouble, you let us know. And no matter if they¡¯re a God or a Devil, the elven tribe will bring down our full might onto them.¡±

    ======================================================

    ¡°Well, Treen. I see you brought a friend with you.¡± Order called out, watching the two elves nimbly scale down the trunk.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s Barkly.¡± Leffy volunteered. ¡°He¡¯s one of the best all-rounders in the tribe at the moment. He can fight a bear in hand-to-hand combat: and win! He¡¯s who I want to be when I grow up.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ see.¡± Order didn¡¯t care for the small talk. But it did tell her that Treen had brought with her someone that was fit and able. The general goal of the experiment was still the extension of mortal lifespans, of course. But that wasn¡¯t exactly what Order was testing for here. No, the mechanism of godly powers filtered through mortal forms yielded wildly unpredictable effects, often accelerating some aspect of the mortal condition.

    What Order really wanted from this test with Survival was to see how his ability in particular would interact with a mortal ¨C how it would give them a new perspective on life. Hopefully, one that would lead to them living longer, and maintaining peak physicality while they were at it. In other words, aging gracefully. Having a prime specimen of the species in her grasp would aid with the objective splendidly.

    And if they died like that time with Renewal, well, that¡¯d hit Life where it hurt, wouldn¡¯t it?

    Win-win.

    ¡°I suppose the other elves will join us soon?¡± Treen and Barkly had finally reached the bottom, and trudged over to the God.

    ¡°Well, miss God of Order and Knowledge, our elder says that you can give us three your blessing first. If nothing goes wrong, then the rest of us will gladly let you pass it on to them.¡± Order scrunched up her face. Ugh. Another bunch of idiots just getting in my way.

    ¡°I suppose¡­ that will suffice for the moment. We¡¯ll begin shortly - starting with this boy first.¡± Order placed a hand on Leffy¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that my brother should go first. If anything, I should-¡°

    ¡°Treen. It¡¯s fine, ok? Are you scared that I¡¯ll get stronger than you or something?¡± Leffy joked, throwing a playful punch at her.

    The elven girl didn¡¯t respond immediately. Her instincts screamed at her to grab her brother and haul tail as far away from the stranger as possible. That there was danger here. But, she reasoned to herself. Elder Root knows what he¡¯s doing. Even if this does go south, it¡¯ll end with just three casualties. The elven race will live on. So against all her senses, she flashed a small, reassuring smile at her younger brother, who returned the smile with a wide beaming one of his own.

    The boy turned to Order and spoke, still blissfully unaware of her plans for him and his people.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do this.¡±

 Chapter 23

    ¡°What are you saying, mate? Like this?¡±

    ¡°No, like this. Look, it¡¯s been five freaking times already. How are you still not getting it?¡± Stories was at his wits end. The brute was literally allergic to learning new things. The materialisation of divine abilities as a tangible force was, in his mind at least, supposed to come naturally to every God. It was simple to carry out. Just redirect the natural flow of energy to pool in the palms of your hands, then push it out. Easy peasy.

    But Survival seemed to not understand it at all, even with a step-by-step demonstration. Instead of the expected glow that came when divine energy took on physical form, the giant was just slapping the air with outstretched palms ¨C like he was trying to swat at a fly. Stories dropped his arms to his sides in defeat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a huge bubble of aura covering a whole damned planet? Just do THAT, but WITH YOUR HANDS.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s different, mate. That¡¯s like¡­ like opening an umbrella. And that¡¯s not difficult. What you¡¯re asking me to do though, now that¡¯s a whole different beast. You¡¯re basically asking me to sweat on command, mate! Or maybe you just aren¡¯t explaining it well enough.¡±

    ¡°NOT WELL ENOU- If I couldn¡¯t explain something I LITERALLY CAME UP WITH, there wouldn¡¯t BE this experiment in the first place! MATE.¡°

    ¡°What seems to be the problem now?¡± Order came up to the two bickering idiots, Leffy in tow. The elf curiously examined his surroundings. They were still in the Breezy Plains, yes, but a large square of the grass carpeting the ground had been covered by a sheet of some sort of flimsy, crinkly see-through material. Elves had never seen plastic before, of course, so he marvelled at the material ¨C like the hide of some legendary beast had been laid out in front of his eyes. Gods sure do hunt some strange animals, he thought. Wonder if they¡¯d let me try some of its flesh after the whole blessing ritual¡¯s done.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t that he was that awed by the plastic tarp. For all its novelty, it was just a shiny substitute for animal hide, after all. No, he was only busying himself with admiring the material to keep himself from asking the burning question he really wanted to ask. Specifically being why the so-called deity that had come to them with such grand promises was currently conversing with thin air and gesturing wildly as if there was someone standing in front of her. He didn¡¯t think the lady was crazy, but the way she was now shouting at some unseen apparition and drawing circles in the air with an angry finger certainly didn¡¯t help her case.

    Leffy slowly distanced himself from Order, pretending to crouch down and feel the plastic while still throwing sideways glances her way. Yep, now she was flinging punches at that invisible something. And yelling some more. Definitely a few leaves short of a branch.

    ¡°¡­like that! Understood? Do it once for me. Yes. Yes. Ok. Good. Ok, elf boy, you can come over now.¡±

    Oh, she was done. Leffy obediently got up from the plastic sheet and slowly ambled over, looking around for the person that she was talking to before. Nope, there was no one there. Ugh, was this whole thing some delusion by a mad elf mutant? He really wanted to get some superpowers ¨C like learning how to turn himself into a bear or something.

    ¡°Stand there. Yes, right there. Alright, God of Survival. From the top.¡± Another God? Leffy¡¯s head shot up at the sudden reveal of Order¡¯s conversation partner, and he scanned the vicinity looking for a place where another God might be hiding, waiting to spring out and join them for this ceremony. He didn¡¯t have to search for long, though, as he felt his waist heat up ¨C like it was being smothered by a thick swaddling of deer fur.

    Leffy looked down ¨C and almost fell backwards on his bum in shock. Well, he couldn¡¯t have fallen down even if he tried, as he was now supported by two large, disembodied hands that had appeared from seemingly nowhere. The humongous pair of appendages suspended in mid-air clasped his waist firmly, like one did when holding a panicked bird that had just been shot out of the sky. Well, he thought nervously. Guess she wasn¡¯t crazy.

    ¡°Hold the position for five minutes. Five. It¡¯s what worked before, so there¡¯s no need to alter the duration.¡± Order badgered the invisible God. Apparently there was at least another God present with them ¨C one that was gripping his sides with warm hands. Leffy tried to keep still and not act like he was terrified at this new development - because he absolutely was. The massive hands on his waist could easily apply just a tad more pressure and squeeze - and that would be curtains for the young male elf.

    Order seemed to notice Leffy¡¯s anxiety, and smiled thinly.

    ¡°Won¡¯t be long now.¡± She reassured him. Until you blow up or melt into a sludge, Order thought to herself. Still, the infusion looked promising. Circulation was good. The mortal wasn¡¯t in pain, as far as she could tell. She consulted her mental clock. Four and a half¡­ Five.

    ¡°Ok, you can stop now, God of Survival.¡± The hands vanished, and Leffy collapsed onto the ground a moment later, his feet wobbly with adrenaline. Order immediately went to his side, probing his tummy with cold digits.

    ¡°Any pain or discomfort? How do you feel?¡±

    Leffy weakly raised his right hand. ¡°¡­no, it was just¡­ I¡¯m fine. Didn¡¯t expect those hands¡­ but I¡¯m fine.¡± Order pried open his left eyelid with two fingers to examine his pupil. ¡°No alteration to ocular receptors, so that wasn¡¯t part of the effects conferred. Or perhaps it may still take some time¡­¡±

    Order stopped muttering for a moment to address Leffy.

    ¡°Well done. I¡¯ll bring over your friend and your sister to stay with you for a couple of hours, and if everything is fine, we should see the results of the blessing soon.¡± She turned to leave, wiping off her fingers with a cloth she¡¯d produced from the pouch on her waist. So far, so good.

    One down, two to go.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ======================================================

    ¡°So what d¡¯ya think the blessing is gonna be? Maybe we¡¯ll grow another set of arms. Or we¡¯ll get the legs of a deer. Ooh, or maybe we¡¯ll get to pick!¡± Barkly was always the talkative one in any group he was in. Always yakking on about some new exploit he¡¯d gone on.

    Treen didn¡¯t much like him. Elves were supposed to be calm and collected; not boisterous and loud. In stark contrast, however, Leffy held the braggart in high regard, always listening with rapt attention as the senior elf spun enthralling tales of adventure and triumph.

    Probably because none of his other seniors would entertain him with unrealistic stories like that, Treen supposed. Which is how elves should act. Foolishly following in the footsteps of some fairytale hero you look up to would only lead to one¡¯s demise.

    She responded to Barkly¡¯s fantasy with how she truly felt.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really care.¡± Treen proclaimed airily. ¡°Elves don¡¯t need some sort of ambiguous blessing to survive; we¡¯ve already done so for centuries without a guiding hand to keep us away from danger or shower us with protection.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you still here then, miss High-and-Mighty? I mean, I¡¯m here because I want to get some cool new claws to show off to Blossom. Oh, right, you don¡¯t know yet: yeah, I¡¯m dating Blossom now. Was a whole thing while you two were out tracking.¡±

    Treen sighed. Barkly wouldn¡¯t understand ¨C he was one of those carefree spirits that took things as they came.

    ¡°If you must know, I¡¯m here for Leffy. He¡¯s still young; this so-called blessing might hurt him rather than help him. Even if he gets stronger because of it - what if it goes to his head? What if he tries to hunt a bear alone? I don¡¯t want to see another one of my brethren-¡°Treen swallowed to suppress the ball of worry that had crawled up her throat. ¡°Die.¡±

    Barkly laced his hands behind his head and leaned against a nearby tree. ¡°What, are you still going on about that freak accident? It¡¯s been ages! Besides, it was his fault for going in the den during hibernation season. Any good elf would tell you that that¡¯s number one on the list of things not to do if you value your life.¡±

    That was the true reason behind Treen¡¯s coddling of her younger brother.

    Four decades back she¡¯d seen an elf, no older than Leffy at the time, succumb to heavy wounds inflicted on his body after he¡¯d wandered into a bear den for god knows what reason. It could have been a dare, or he might have been curious; the cause didn¡¯t matter to Treen. What mattered was the consequences of his jaunt. Miraculously, the elf had made his way back to the foot of the elven treehouses, before collapsing there, slowly sputtering in pain and trickling lifeblood into the soil. His family had found him there half a day later, but it was already too late. The claw marks on his body¡­ the way chunks of flesh had been torn from his face¡­ Treen shuddered as she recalled the gruesome sight.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be such a pansy ¨C I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine! It¡¯s just one tiny girl, right? If it comes down to it, there¡¯s three of us and one of her! It¡¯ll be a cinch to overpower and tie her up.¡± Treen glared at him. He was treating this event too flippantly ¨C like it was a game of treeball. There were no other sentient beings in the world that the elves knew of ¨C the appearance of this stranger at this particular time might be an omen of something worse to come. Maybe there was some advanced civilisation developing outside of their notice, slowly gathering strength and resources over the ages, and now they were ready to conquer all other races that lived around them. That would certainly make more sense than a God descending from the heavens to bestow blessings onto lowly mortals.

    But before she could make known her concerns, the white lady had returned. ¡°Finally,¡± Barkly got up from his relaxed lean, rubbing his hands with excitement. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be our turn now.¡±

    ¡°The blessing was a success, as I expected it to be. Please follow me, and we¡¯ll begin the ritual.¡± Order caught herself before she spoke any further.

    No, what was the point of infusing each elf one by one? They needed a separate sample group; someone that would receive the infusion via transmission rather than direct injection.

    ¡°...apologies, miss Treen. I failed to mention this before, but as you¡¯re related to young Leffy, the ritual won¡¯t work as well for you until he manifests the true effects of the blessing.¡±

    Treen waved her hand dismissively.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about that. I can meet with him, right? You¡¯re not going to say something like if I touch him he¡¯s going to explode or something?¡± Order nodded in the affirmative, and the elf girl breathed a sigh of relief.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m certainly not related to Leffy by blood. Bring on the blessings!¡± Barkly crowed as he swaggered over to the God¡¯s side, who merely turned and began to saunter back the way she came.

    Treen still wasn¡¯t convinced that the God of Order and Knowledge was doing this out of the kindness of her heart. If she truly wanted to help the elven tribe, why bless them in this fashion? Wouldn¡¯t the gift of knowledge, like that God of Greed had granted to them in the past, be more useful in this situation? Knowing how to subjugate the wild animals of their world and keeping them as livestock might have a greater beneficial impact than growing a pair of wings or being able to punch animals slightly harder.

    She couldn¡¯t help but flash back to that sight of the dead elf, bloodied and battered, an eyeball hanging from its socket, two fingers completely bitten off. That¡¯s what been bothering me, Treen thought. This is the exact same as that time.

    They were standing at the mouth of a bear¡¯s den - and walking in would seal their fate for good.

    But with her brother and her acquaintance already within the grasp of the danger that lay before them, all Treen could do was follow in their footsteps.

    And pray that they¡¯d all make it back alive.

 Chapter 24

    ¡°Sooo,¡± Stories started. ¡°I didn¡¯t quite catch what Survival¡¯s ability was about. We¡¯ve got time, so spill.¡±

    Order and Stories were standing off to the side, watching over Barkly¡¯s turn with Survival¡¯s magic hands. The older elf didn¡¯t seem as shocked as Leffy was, but he did stroke the floating hands with his own to confirm that yes, this was actually happening ¨C against all explainable logic, there were indeed two tangible appendages attached to the very obvious absence of a body making contact with his body and doing something to him. Something that made him feel all tingly and hot all over. Probably meant that it was working, he thought. Cool.

    ¡°You were with him for a whole week, fool. Did you not ask him even once?¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t say that his ability was at the front of my mind, no. Too busy teasing him.¡±

    Order sighed. ¡°Well, I suppose I can let you in on this factoid ¨C it¡¯s not like you can do anything with it now.¡± She cleared her throat once to ensure that she was in peak explanation form, then continued.

    ¡°The God of Survival ¨C his godly talent is to enforce hierarchy amongst mortal lifeforms. As far as I can gather from what he told me, anyways. There was a lot of wincing and cowering while he was describing it.¡±

    ¡°Enforce? What, like, make mortals treat each other like slaves or something?¡±

    ¡°No, he creates a framework in the minds of mortals he projects his aura onto ¨C a mental obligation to follow a set of rules, the purpose of which is to cause the formation of a caste-like system, one that prioritises physical strength of the individual rather than other qualities like intelligence or creativity. A brutish talent fit for the brute that he is.¡± She pointed at the transparent titan that was currently holding an uncomfortable squat, trying his best to remain still for the entire duration of five minutes. ¡°I¡¯m expecting that the next logical evolution of this ability, when channelled directly into a mortal at point blank range, that is, would be to confer onto them characteristics that the strongest of his caste system possesses.¡±

    ¡°So you don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°If I knew, you utter imbecile, I wouldn¡¯t have to carry out this experiment, now would I? Please use that underdeveloped hunk of cranial tissue in between your ears that you call a brain before speaking up next time. That would be greatly appreciated.¡±

    ¡°Geez, you don¡¯t have to get mad. I was only asking.¡± Stories sulked, turning his attention back to the ritual in front of him. He pointed at the plastic sheet that covered the ground. ¡°Why the tarp, then? We didn¡¯t do that before. Does that help with the experiment?¡±

    Order smiled.

    ¡°It¡¯s so the blood doesn¡¯t go everywhere.¡±

    =========================================

    ¡°Leffy! Are you ok? Did they hurt you?¡± The second Treen was brought to Leffy by that white lady, she¡¯d hurried over, running her hands down her brother¡¯s body, worriedly searching for cuts or bruises from the so-called blessing that had been performed on him.

    ¡°Treen, I¡¯m fine. I was a little rattled when the blessing started, but it¡¯s all good in the end ¨C see? I can still run around and everything.¡± Leffy did a small jog in a circle to demonstrate his fitness. ¡°Though the blessing hasn¡¯t actually done anything yet¡­ which is kinda disappointing. Although, that God did say that it¡¯ll be another seven hours before anything big happens. Oh, and I have to stay here on this funny mat until that happens.¡± He patted the plastic sheet covering the ground.

    ¡°What was the blessing about? Did they make you drink something weird?¡± Treen pried open Leffy¡¯s mouth and peered inside, looking for traces of discoloured liquids.

    ¡°Nou, an iz wiurd ew wood tink soh,¡± The elf boy pulled away the slender fingers accosting his mouth. ¡°No, but it¡¯s super crazy! So like, these two huge ¨C I mean, gigantic ¨C hands just started grabbing me and then that lady was like, ¡°Ok, mr God of Survival, do your thing!¡± and then I felt a sort of warmth and I was kinda freaked out but I held it together and-¡°

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Treen interrupted. There was something¡­ profoundly strange mixed in with what her brother had said. ¡°What do you mean by God of Survival? The white lady didn¡¯t perform the blessing herself?¡±

    ¡°Well, no- but does that matter? The ritual still worked, it¡¯s not like she lied or something, she just had her friend do it for her. Loosen up, Treen, not everything has to be a life-threatening danger all the time.¡±

    Treen didn¡¯t think the same, though. Her mind began to cycle through possibilities for that God to conceal this information. Why would she omit the fact that it would be another God carrying out the blessing? Why would she lead us to believe that she¡¯d come alone to our tribe? And why separate the ones that had already been blessed from the ones that hadn¡¯t been?

    By meaning alone, a blessing was something that was benign, something that would be beneficial to people; why would you need to keep them away from those that had been unblessed? It was as if the separation was so that they could keep track of who they¡¯d already finished up with. Who didn¡¯t need to be kept an eye on any further.

    An unsettling idea crawled in from the dark, latching itself to her thoughts and cackling with wicked glee. As she slowly put the fragments together, she felt the hairs on her skin prickle outwards. There was only one conclusion she could come to if you looked at the entire scenario as one intended to ensnare rather than to benefit.

    This was just like a hunt ¨C the tracking down of prey, the capturing of unknowing, clueless animals.

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    And now, the preparation of the meat.

    This wasn¡¯t a ceremony to make the elves stronger or better ¨C this was a slaughterhouse, and they were the deer being held for execution.

    Then Treen realised something more horrifying than the trap they were already in the jaws of.

    That God of Order, she¡¯d wanted all the elves ¨C not just them three.

    ¡°Ok, Leffy, listen to me,¡± Treen gripped her brother by his shoulders, glancing over periodically at the white lady currently focusing her attention on Barkly - ensuring that the next words she was about to say would not be overheard. ¡°I¡¯m going to slip out as soon as night hits and go back to the elders ¨C I need to warn them. Get our people ready to fight. These Gods; I don''t think they want to help us, they''re probably trying to prepare us for some... nefarious purpose. Maybe to eat us or something, I don¡¯t know. But there''s no way it''s something good.¡±

    ¡°Treen, you¡¯re being crazy-¡°

    ¡°Maybe I am. There¡¯s a definite chance that it¡¯s nothing and I''m just being paranoid. But it¡¯s like I always tell you: better to be safe than sorry. Trust me.¡±

    Leffy looked into his sister¡¯s manic eyes, still unworried and carefree, about to throw out a scoff and dismiss her concerns with a joke about her being high-strung as usual. But even he could tell that she was deadly serious at this very moment in time. She really felt that there was an urgent need to inform the chieftains of her conclusions. And no matter what he believed, that everything was fine and the blessing was going to give him the ability to jump over trees or phase through walls or whatever, she was still his older sister.

    Leffy sighed. ¡°Blaarg- fine. You win. I¡¯ll help out. We¡¯ll wait till about 6 hours from now; near when the effects of the blessing is supposed to take place. I¡¯ll distract them by yelling or something, then you¡¯ll slip out through the back while they¡¯re occupied with me and hurry back to the treehouses. If you hustle, you¡¯ll probably be able to make it there and back in about fifteen minutes.¡±

    Treen hugged him tight, ignoring his squirming as he tried to break free. ¡°Thank you for this, Leffy. You won¡¯t regret it. All this is for the sake of our tribe. You''ll understand when you get older.¡±

    ¡°Gah, ok, ok, I get it, you love me very much ¨C get off of me!¡± He pushed her away and brushed himself off. She¡¯s overreacting, Leffy thought. Has to be. I mean, just take a look at Barkly ¨C he¡¯s not panicking! Doesn¡¯t she understand that they¡¯re Gods and we¡¯re mortals; why would they want to hurt the people who¡¯re basically their children? Ridiculous.

    Leffy smirked to himself. That¡¯s Treen for you, though. Always jumping at shadows around corners. That one elf death had really changed her. Apparently she was a lot more fun before ¨C he would have loved to see that. A Treen that actually took risks and had some fun for once. Leffy shook his head as he lamented the disappearance of the reckless version of his sister. What a shame.

    Now, Treen hadn¡¯t come to exactly the right conclusion about the reasoning for Order¡¯s deception. Order¡¯s intentions were indeed as the God had said; to help the elven tribe become better than they already were - she¡¯d just left out that this "betterment" was by experimenting on them with volatile godly abilities that might lead to catastrophic societal collapse. A risk that Order was willing to take.

    But by some cosmic fluke, Treen had accidentally stumbled onto the general idea behind what the blessings were for ¨C to further Order¡¯s own goals, and not to benefit the elves in any way whatsoever. Any positive effects were unintended but welcomed, since Order didn¡¯t even know what the results of the experiment might yield. Data was king here, and all the God of Order and Knowledge cared about was learning about how Survival¡¯s ability interacted with the mortals he touched.

    However, that was where Treen¡¯s luck ran out. Unfortunately for her, she¡¯d picked the worst option out of the two that she could have chosen.

    The other option, for posterity¡¯s sake, would be that after waiting to witness what the blessings had done, Treen should have killed Barkly and her brother, then bit off her own tongue, thereby exterminating every source of potential corruption from their world. That would have ended all chance that harm would befall the elven tribe. The Gods would have left, satisfied with the data they¡¯d collected. The elves might mourn the death of three of their brethren for a couple of weeks. They¡¯d wonder why Treen would have committed such acts of irredeemable fratricide. But they¡¯d move on, as they¡¯d done before.

    Instead, she¡¯d picked the other one.

    The bad one.

    The option which involved getting all the elves to band together and fight the Gods. To drive off the invaders from their ancestral land. A little futile if the elves understood the capabilities of the deities that had descended onto their planet, but there was always the chance that the Gods would comply simply out of annoyance at getting pelted with arrows every few seconds or so, rather than being frightened for their lives.

    This plan was all very well and good - if only it hadn¡¯t involved her going back to the elven tribe¡¯s home while still carrying the mark of the God of Survival. A mark that she would pass unintentionally to a guard as she brushed across him. Who would then touch another guard. Who would then go home and hug his wife. Perhaps ruffle the hair of his child.

    Eventually leading to the doom of the elven race in its entirety.

    But Treen wouldn¡¯t know this.

    Not until it was too late.

 Chapter 25

    ¡°Do you feel anything yet?¡± Barkly nudged his junior with a sharp elbow as they laid there side-by-side on the plastic tarp, waiting for the blessing from the God of Survival to take effect. Leffy lifted his hands up to his face, staring at the back of his palms, turning them around and inspecting his fingers for obvious changes. He lolled over to the side to face Barkly and shook his head.

    Nada.

    Barkly sighed and inched over a tad for a little leeway to get comfortable, lying back onto his interlocked hands. Outside of the initial slow-roasting of their elvish tummies by a pair of ghostly hands, they¡¯d yet to see any real effects from the ritual that had been conducted. Barkly was starting to think that the whole thing had been some illusion; or a shared hallucination from eating deer meat that had gone bad. The alleged God of Order certainly seemed real enough to him now, but perhaps the logical explanation here was that he had an overactive imagination. Dreams had a way of making you believe in the fantastical and impossible, after all.

    Or maybe he was in a coma.

    It¡¯d been just under four hours now, and still nothing! Well, the God had said it would be seven hours, but shouldn¡¯t these things happen in stages? Surely there¡¯d be some alterations by now? Fur or something? Maybe a new claw or two? Heck, he¡¯d even take a couple extra fingers ¨C just do something! Barkly inhaled deeply. No, if she said it was seven hours, then he¡¯d wait the full seven hours. Nothing he could do but wait. Just¡­ wait.

    And wait.

    And wait.

    Ugh.

    Barkly fidgeted in place, the plastic squeaking as he shifted about on top of it. He was now officially completely bored out of his mind. Usually he¡¯d be out doing something by now ¨C maybe polishing his bladework or exploring another corner of the lands surrounding their tribe. Definitely not sitting on his bum and staring out into space like some invalid! That stick Treen might be content with that sort of dull monotony - but not him!

    His philosophy was that the elves had been given the gift of extremely long lifespans for one reason and one reason alone: to experience all that life had to offer! To leap off cliffs, to go out into the wild and challenge ferocious beasts - to have a good time! It was why Barkly never stayed in one place for long, and why he flitted from lover to lover ¨C he didn¡¯t want to be chained down by the boring rules and traditions that dictated the lives of so many of his fellow elves.

    What was the point of living so long if all you did was plop your ass in a tree all day and shovel deer meat into your mouth all so you could excrete it out again later? You might as well feed yourself to a bear at that point ¨C at least you¡¯d be providing some value to an animal that was struggling to survive ¨C to live!

    He groaned out loud, sitting up. Time to make like a rabbit and scamper. Wasn¡¯t like that scrawny woman was going to be able to keep him here, anyways.

    Order was currently standing about five meters away to observe the two ¨C out of the splash zone, so to speak ¨C so she¡¯d immediately caught sight of Barkly pushing himself off the mat with an irritated grunt and stomping over in the direction of the trees. Not good. That was supposed to come later. If that elf went over to talk to a friend or two, it¡¯d throw off the timing of the transmissions; she¡¯d not know how extensive the spread of the godly transferrals might have been by the time she¡¯d caught the contamination. And while Order did intend to have at least a few more samples to confirm the results of the experiment, she wanted them segregated into neat little groups before she started. Not sprinkled in here and there in the canopies of the trees; it¡¯d be a nightmare to get them all.

    Plus, it¡¯d be a pain if the effects of the ¡°blessings¡± from Survival turned out to be undesirable. Under the circumstances of not knowing how widespread the infection was ¨C why, she¡¯d be reluctantly forced to exterminate every single mortal in the vicinity of the infection!

    Yes, while it¡¯d certainly provide her some temporary satisfaction in terms of getting back at Life for siding with Stories over her regarding the restrictions on her experiment, obliterating the whole civilisation just for something as petty as that felt wasteful in her mind. She¡¯d already planned to leave at least two males and two females untouched at the end ¨C so they¡¯d be able to replenish their numbers after a century or two.

    Like a normal person.

    The God walked briskly over and cut him off just as he was about to step off the plastic sheet.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Barkly? There¡¯s still,¡± She closed her eyes to consult her mental clock. ¡°Another three hours to go. Are you feeling under the weather? Or is it that you need to relieve your bodily functions? You can go in one of the bushes at the side of the holding area; I promise to allow you some measure of privacy during the affair.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t have to take a dump ¨C and what makes you think I¡¯d have to ask your permission? I¡¯m almost a hundred years old; I¡¯m basically an old codger already! No, the thing is - I¡¯m bored, lady. Absolutely mind-melted. I¡¯m going off to see Blossom; that¡¯s my new girlfriend if Treen hasn¡¯t told you yet, and I¡¯ll spend the rest of the three hours or whatever cuddling with her, if that¡¯s alright with you.¡±

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    Order frowned and stretched out a hand to halt the elf in his path. He stopped moving, and slowly lifted his gaze to hers, mouth twisting into an incredulous sneer as he coldly eyed the girl that was a head smaller than he was.

    ¡°Are you¡­ trying to pick a fight with me? For your information; I¡¯m one of the most prolific hunters of my generation. I¡¯ve taken on bears solo and won. I¡¯ve out-sprinted deer and ripped out their hearts with nothing but a single blade. And I know that you think that just because you¡¯re some God, that somehow means that us lowly mortals have to listen to everything you have to say. But if you lay that finger on me, I swear to my mother in heaven (may she rest in peace) that I¡¯ll remove it from your hand and force it down your throat. Understood?¡±

    Order didn¡¯t budge, her palm still outstretched, just a hair away from Barkly¡¯s chest. She stifled an indignant retort. Mortals were so dumb; even the ones that could talk could do naught but boast and yap, ignorant of the world outside of the well they lived in.

    Gods were Gods for a reason. You wouldn¡¯t call a bear an ant if you knew for a fact how large and powerful they were.

    ¡°I¡¯m very willing to, ¡®throw-down with you¡¯, as they say, if you intend to continue back to your abode. But I don¡¯t believe that it would be in your best interests if you do decide to leave this holding area. Even discounting the fact that I would lay you flat in an expedient fashion, you do understand that there is another God present at this moment that could just as easily render you immobile, right?¡±

    Now it was Barkly¡¯s turn to frown. The two large hands that had gripped his waist just a while back were still fresh in his mind. If that God was still here, then with those powerful appendages of his, it wouldn¡¯t be an exaggeration to say that Barkly¡¯s legs were in real danger of being snapped off at the knee. His arrogance diminished somewhat as he considered carefully whether or not he wanted to take the risk that he might end up two legs short, and still have to wait the full seven hours anyways - this time while nursing a shattered ego and an even-more-shattered set of walkers.

    He swallowed audibly.

    Order hadn¡¯t lied per say; yes, it was true that she could definitely dispatch this elf within the blink of an eye, but the two lesser Gods had long since floated off in the direction of the elven treehouses, stating that they¡¯d at least like to go sightseeing while this whole lot of nothing was happening anyways.

    It wasn¡¯t often that Stories laid his eyes on mortals that could speak fluently in a language that he could understand, and Survival wanted to see if he could incorporate any new entertainments the elven race had come up with in his kingdom back home.

    ¡°¡­ok, fine. But seven hours on the dot, and I¡¯m out of here. Got that?¡± The prideful elf caved, as Order expected he would. He treasured having all his limbs intact, after all.

    Order gave a small, stiff smile in response. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to keep you here any longer than I have to. You have my word; the moment I¡¯ve noted the development and subsequent expression of the blessings, you will be free to do as you please.¡±

    Imbecile.

    She watched closely as the elf trudged back to his place next to Leffy, making sure he didn¡¯t make any sudden breaks for the trees. Speaking of which¡­ where was Treen during all this? Order peered out over the plastic mat, spotting the girl crouched next to a bush in the far corner of the holding area.

    Order couldn¡¯t quite make out what she was doing, but from the way she was positioned¡­ Order smiled wryly to herself. Ah, she was probably engaged in the act of excretion. Best to leave her be, then. So with that mystery solved, Order returned to her spot overlooking the two samples and continued her observation duties.

    Treen, of course, wasn¡¯t pooping. She was, at this moment, performing a set of mental calculations based on the position of the holding area in relation to the house of the chieftains that were currently resting in the treetops of the elven tribe. And this back corner was one of the blind spots to the God of Order and Knowledge; it was just far enough that you¡¯d be able to make out a speck in the distance that vaguely resembled a crouching humanoid, but not close enough that you¡¯d see the features on their face.

    Treen was banking on the fact that when night fell, there¡¯d be enough overlapping shadows and shifting of leaves in the night breeze that the God would overlook her momentary disappearance. Elves could see just as well at night as they did in the day; she was willing to bet that that God wouldn¡¯t possess similar capabilities.

    Treen sucked in a deep breath. She didn¡¯t know if this was the right choice. If it was true that these blessings were legitimate in nature and that the Gods came in peace, then rallying her people to chase them away might have the unintended effect of provoking retaliation from these deities. And from what Treen had gleaned from her brother¡¯s excited gesturing, there was at least one other God accompanying the small one; a God that seemed to be as huge as a redwood, and on top of all that - completely invisible. He could crush them all without them even knowing. She shuddered at the thought. But Treen pushed out that hypothetical scenario from her mind, choosing instead to focus on the plan to get back to the treehouses as quickly as possible.

    No point planning for the worst case, she thought. What I¡¯ll do here tonight is for the sake of our tribe.

    And I¡¯ll make sure that they¡¯ll live on - even if I have to die to do so.

 Chapter 26

    ¡°Leffy. Leffy!¡± Treen hissed as loudly as she could without advertising her current position. He¡¯d fallen asleep, the carefree idiot! It was a stroke of luck that God of Order wasn¡¯t actively looking their way; she was engrossed in some brown book, flipping pages and scratching across parchment quickly with a writing implement. But that precious window of opportunity could close at any time, so they had to move.

    Now.

    The male elf was violently shaken awake by his sister, who was understandably rather tense - given that the planned distraction had already passed by a little over thirty minutes. Thirty whole minutes that the elves could be fortifying their defense. ¡°How can you fall asleep in this situation?! You promised me you¡¯d draw their attention!¡±

    ¡°¡­sorry, sorry.¡± Leffy yawned, rubbing his eyes roughly with his arm. How could anyone blame him? He¡¯d spent the better part of six hours lying down on flat ground staring into the sky as it gradually changed from a hue of reddish orange to that of a murky blackness. Like the trance one got from hunting, where you tuned out every other thought and focused solely on sneaking up on an animal you¡¯d been tracking for hours before. Call it skygazing hypnosis. ¡°I¡¯ll get on it right away, you go get ready where you have to. I¡¯ll shout or something so the God gets over here.¡±

    Treen huffed indignantly at her brother¡¯s nonchalance, but disappeared into the shadows all the same. They were on the clock now; no time for a dressing down. Maybe after they¡¯d repelled the godly threat.

    ¡°OOF! AWCH! AGH!¡± Leffy clutched his stomach as he yelled out in pain. A terrible performance, Treen groaned as she took rapid strides towards the spot of her egress. No one was going to fall for such obvious play-acting.

    Least of all someone calling themselves a God.

    ¡°What? What are you feeling? Tell me where the pain is.¡± Ok, she stood corrected. Treen heard frantic footsteps coming from her back as Order apparently chomped onto the bait with zero hesitation. Treen had no way of knowing this, but the God had been conditioned by her previous experience with the process of divine energy infusion to pay close attention to every aspect of the alteration; just in case the valuable subject perished without giving her a chance to note down every data point that could be observed from their demise.

    Good job, Treen thought, slinking into the thick overgrowth. As soon as she was sure that the vegetation obscured her figure sufficiently, she broke out into a sprint back towards the elven tribe¡¯s home. Don¡¯t worry, Leffy. I¡¯ll get help soon enough.

    Fifteen minutes till she returned.

    ======================================================

    ¡°¡­maybe it¡¯s my stomach? Or¡­ it could be my chest? OOF! OW! ARGH!¡± Leffy sneaked a peek through squinted eyes to gauge Order¡¯s reaction. Yep, that was definitely a God pinching and prodding his upper body with delicate fingers. If he wasn¡¯t supposed to be tricking her right now, Leffy felt he might have blurted out a cheesy pick-up line. Bit strange how she was so concerned with his horrendous acting, though ¨C like unforeseen problems were likely to occur with the ritual. Expected to occur, even. Well, he certainly wasn¡¯t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ see. At a preliminary glance it doesn¡¯t look like there¡¯s an adverse reaction¡­ It¡¯s too dark to be sure. Lie down.¡± Order grabbed Leffy by the shoulders and forced him down into a lying position. ¡°No, circulation seems good ¨C there isn¡¯t any disruption. There shouldn¡¯t be any pain¡­ unless I¡¯ve overlooked some other factor?¡± She muttered, stroking the tanned skin with a palm. Perhaps this was a possible occurrence as the infusion melded with the mortal¡¯s physical form? She glanced over at Barkly, who was snoring loudly to the side. No, if this one was experiencing severe discomfort, the other subject should display a similar affliction.

    With that, Order got up from her knees and wordlessly returned to her original position. ¡°Hey, um¡­ miss God? Ow¡­? It still hurts! You gotta fix me or give me something for the pain, right? ...why are you walking away?¡± Order didn¡¯t respond to the elf. There was no need to attend to his sickness right this very moment. In any case, it was most likely a coincidence that he was experiencing pain. Irrelevant to the recent godly interference in his biology. Therefore, the best option would be to resume observation from a safe distance.

    After all¡­

    The expected seven hours was about to be up.

    Five minutes to go.

    ======================================================

    ¡°Order¡¯s missing out; this place is brilliant!¡± Stories gushed as he swam over to another object that caught his eye. The elves didn¡¯t just make any old treehouse in these treetops; they constructed magnificent structures that incorporated the trees themselves into the design. Thick branches as walkways from one home to another. Sturdy wooden flooring that were grafted onto the trunks and anchored to the tree by regrowth. Improvised wooden stakes driven into the core of the redwood that could be tapped for easy sap access. ¡°For monkeys they sure are civilised, eh Survival?¡±

    ¡°I do have one question though¡­¡± Stories wondered out loud.

    ¡°How do they¡­ poop?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re looking in the wrong places, mate. Look at that¡­¡± Survival whistled as he peered closely at the carved spear an elven guard was holding. The shaft was nothing to marvel at, just a plain stripped down branch sanded down to a generic wooden pole, with elven script scraped into the wood. But the tip¡­ now, that was a work of art. The large tooth of some beast had been jammed onto the end and secured tightly with a lashing of vine. ¡°Beautiful,¡± the giant God breathed, watching the tooth sway from side to side as the guard shifted in place, trying to maintain a stoic pose. ¡°See, this is what it¡¯s all about ¨C the struggle against death for life, triumphing over the weak and liberating trophies to make yourself stronger; that¡¯s the right way to survive!¡±

    ¡°Ok, so what? They all have fancy pokey sticks.¡± Stories scoffed. He jabbed a thumb in the direction of some elves playing a game of treeball. ¡°Pointy stabby implements are literally the least interesting thing here. I mean, just look: they¡¯ve invented a whole sport around tossing a ball of leaves around while dangling at least three hundred feet off the ground! That¡¯s¡­ amazing! The sheer amount of hand-eye coordination¡­ the confidence borne from decades of living in trees¡­ that¡¯s way more fascinating than oh, they killed a big thing and stuck its teeth on the ends of sticks.¡±

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    Survival was just about to launch into a whole dissertation refuting the dismissal of how important it was that mortals challenged themselves once in a while to face creatures stronger than themselves and that no, they weren¡¯t just pointy sticks, they were very cool and Stories should feel dumb and stupid for not seeing that¡­ when all of a sudden, a commotion broke out in the central area of the elven tribe¡¯s home.

    ¡°Oop, there¡¯s drama.¡± Stories tore himself away from a particularly intricate self-portrait carving and floated over to Survival¡¯s side. ¡°Wanna go check it out? Could be something fun, like a fight breaking out. I bet you¡¯d love that, wouldn¡¯t ya, big guy? Race you there!¡±

    Survival grumbled as he followed in the other lesser God¡¯s wake. The pointy spears were cool, and he¡¯d prove it to that ignorant moron. The sudden disturbance took priority, though. If it was a fight like Stories suggested, maybe he¡¯d finally get to see some blood.

    ¡°FIGHT! SOMEONE GET ME ELDER ROOT! WE NEED TO GET READY TO FIGHT! WE¡¯VE ALL BEEN TRICKED!¡± Treen was hollering at the top of her lungs as she leapt from branch to branch, broadcasting a frantic cry of mobilisation. A couple of elves left their homes to see what was going on, but so far, the only ones really paying attention to her were the guards on duty. It was the middle of the night, after all; most elves were already fully in a dead slumber.

    ¡°Ah, crap. That¡¯s one of the elves Order¡¯s working on, right?¡± Survival nodded in response, half-listening as his eyes greedily followed the female elf nimbly jumping about. Why hadn¡¯t he noticed before? Yes¡­ the grace¡­ the athleticism¡­ she¡¯d be a wonderful addition to his kingdom¡­

    ¡°Stay with me, big guy. No time for ogling the local fauna. We gotta go tell Order about this.¡± Stories took one last nervous look at the shouting elvish female before turning to propel himself towards the holding area in the Breezy Plains. It felt like a repeat of the time with Renewal ¨C like things were about to spiral out of control. He mumbled a quick prayer that that wouldn¡¯t be the case. Surely this was part of Order¡¯s plan¡­ right?

    Two minutes till the infusion takes effect.

    ======================================================

    Ok, Leffy thought. So that didn¡¯t work. There¡¯s maybe another five or so minutes before Treen returns. If she¡¯s not buying the act, I probably can do something else to get her attention.

    ¡°Hey, uh, miss God, how about we talk about what the blessing is going to entail? Are we going to get wings or claws or fangs or something? Enlighten me.¡±

    Order arched an eyebrow. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be in unimaginable pain? Oh.¡± She raised a palm to her forehead and sighed. ¡°Of course. You were faking. No doubt like your friend over there - you¡¯re bored.¡±

    Ooh. He could work with that!

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m bored! Are you hiding any uh, magical God games under that robe of yours that I can play while waiting?¡± Leffy said, inching closer to the God step by step. She hadn¡¯t noticed Treen was missing just yet, so if he could focus her attention on him until his sister returned¡­

    ¡°That¡¯s close enough, boy.¡± Order stopped the elf in his tracks with a frosty sentence. ¡°Stay right there.¡±

    The time was, so to speak, up.

    It all happened in an instant.

    One moment Leffy was bewilderedly staring at the sudden change in demeanor of the God of Order and Knowledge, still considering what his next move could be to buy his sister a little more time, and the next moment his vision was tinged a dark maroon.

    He couldn¡¯t see it from his perspective ¨C it¡¯s a little hard to observe your own eyeballs using those very same eyes, after all ¨C but every capillary in both ocular organs had simultaneously burst, bleeding red liquid into the membrane surrounding them, and blinding him completely.

    ¡°Huu,¡± It was an involuntary gasp as Leffy clutched at his chest. This time he wasn¡¯t faking; his whole body was seizing up, muscles contracting sharply as the elf was thrown into a primal fight or flight mode. Every neuron in his brain was firing constantly, screaming in a symphony of agony. His skin was on fire ¨C like there were red-hot spikes of iron being inserted lengthwise into his flesh.

    He couldn¡¯t speak; he couldn¡¯t think; he couldn¡¯t¡­ he couldn¡¯t¡­

    The pain¡­ The pain¡­

    Painpainpainpainpain.

    He had to make the pain stop. He had to rip it out. He had to tear it out. He needed to break something ¨C to hurt someone. To make others feel what he felt. And if they couldn¡¯t endure the pain that he now felt every single second of his new existence?

    They didn¡¯t deserve to survive.

    The creature that was once an elf called Leffy crouched low to the ground, sniffing roughly. It couldn¡¯t see out of its eyes, but that was fine. The godly infusion had done its work: the creature¡¯s sense of smell was in overdrive. It noted a pleasant floral scent to its front ¨C something it could rip to shreds. But just as it was about to pounce onto the fragrant object, it paused. The elven beast had detected another scent to his side. A familiar musk, someone that the creature instinctively understood was superior to it. It snarled, a guttural growl of rage. This person thought they were better than it?

    Then they needed to be taught the lesson of pain.

    Barkly never knew what happened. He was sound asleep, sprawled out lazily as he dreamed of the new lands he¡¯d visit with the wings that the blessing would bestow onto him. The execution took place within the blink of an eye. His throat was wrenched from his body with great force, blood spurting out in geysers. A powerful fist punched through his chest, rendering his ribcage into fragments of bone. His heart soon followed, popping like a balloon pumped with too much air.

    At this point, Barkly was no longer alive. But the beast didn¡¯t stop. It continued to scratch at the bloodied skin of the elf corpse with sharp claws of keratin, flinging medium-sized chunks of flesh behind itself as it dug over and over into the meat.

    Order watched on emotionlessly, her pen gliding across the pages of her leather notebook in quick strokes. Then, confirming that she¡¯d recorded every relevant detail of the incident, she snapped the book shut.

    Now¡­ what to do?

    She pursed her lips as she watched the elf-turned-animal hack away at the unrecognisable hunk of meat. At times like this, wouldn¡¯t it be appropriate to say something? To summarise the situation in a neat sentence, so that you could better organise your thoughts. She pondered for a few moments, finding the words to describe how she was feeling. Then she spoke.

    ¡°What a mess.¡±

 Chapter 27

    ¡°Order, we have a small, teeny, tiny problem. Probably nothing, but we¡¯re just popping by to let you in on the news.¡± The female God whipped around to see Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 floating towards her.

    Great. When it rains, it pours.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve been made aware of the situation. In fact, I¡¯m dealing with it right this moment.¡± She gritted her teeth, gesturing to the elf creature that was currently fashioning the remains of his acquaintance into a squelchy meat nest of sorts.

    ¡°Huh- WHOA! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!¡± Stories flinched, flailing his hands wildly in front of him to cancel his forward momentum. ¡°No, that¡¯s not the problem we¡¯re talking about - why, did something else go wrong?¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± His face paled as he finally recognised what the thing ripping up the other elf was. ¡°That¡¯s one of the elf subjects, I¡¯m guessing?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Stories gulped. ¡°Well, then I¡¯m afraid to say that our teensy small little problem that we¡¯ve come to tell you about¡­ probably has to be upgraded a few ranks to a large, uncontrollable crisis. Your other elf subject ¨C the girl one ¨C is back at the elven tribe¡¯s treehouses right now; she¡¯s calling for them to assemble and go fight someone ¨C I¡¯m presuming that would be us.¡±

    Order froze in place. No. That couldn¡¯t be right. ¡°Say that again?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m saying, the female elf, Treen; she¡¯s at the treehouses, she¡¯s shouting-¡°

    Order ran over to the side, past the elf-beast amalgamation. She scanning the holding area frantically, sweeping her gaze over the sheet of the now very obviously empty plastic. No, no, no! That girl was just here! She saw her! Treen was standing a ways away from the other two boys! Order had periodically made sure that the three were still there! The only time that she took her eyes off the girl was when¡­

    When that boy started screaming and yelling that he was in pain.

    ¡°GAAAAH! DAMN IT! ONE TIME, WHY CAN¡¯T THINGS GO WELL, JUST ONE TIME?!¡± Order screeched, yelling her frustration out loud as strongly as her lungs could handle. She tore the miscellaneous pouch that was secured to her belt and flung it to the ground, the contents spilling out everywhere.

    ¡°ONE.¡±

    Kick.

    ¡°TIME.¡±

    Kick.

    ¡°RRARGH!¡±

    When she¡¯d finally exhausted herself abusing the satchel with a series of heavy and unfocused kicks to its side, Order collapsed on the ground, panting and huffing heavily. Stories and Survival just let her tire herself out; she wouldn¡¯t be any help with the other crisis while she was in a state of rage, anyways.

    ¡°You done? Still gonna need your input on the other problem.¡±

    Order squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and counted. One. Two. Three. She felt her pulse gradually slow, her mind expelling the fuzz of anger and irritation, filling the newly evacuated space with logic and reason. The moron was, unfortunately, right. Quelling the fire was the more pressing issue; expressing her deep vexation at overlooking one or two aspects of her perfect plan would have to wait.

    Order turned to Survival, eyes stony and serious. The self-proclaimed apex of masculinity stood there, sheepishly looking back as he wondered what she wanted from him this time.

    ¡°You know what you have to do now. The infection mustn¡¯t spread. Do it.¡±

    Survival¡¯s face hardened. Oh. He reached over with one massive palm, and hovered over the elf-beast¡¯s head. Of course I¡¯m the one that has to do this, he grumbled. This is discrimination against big people. Stories could have done this just as easily.

    Then, as he¡¯d been taught to do, he focused divine power into the hand and closed his fist, squeezing. The creature¡¯s head, suddenly experiencing inward pressure from all directions where there was none before, popped like a balloon.

    Thus ended the life of the elf named Leffy; only a mere fifty-six years of age.

    Order confirmed the death of the animal, before beckoning the two lesser Gods to follow, already hurrying off in the direction of the elf tribe. She bit her lip, cursing as she walked. The current state of affairs was not proceeding as planned, but it might still be salvageable. For example, the outbreak might be confined to a small area of the living quarters. Maybe it wasn¡¯t still too late to separate a segment of uninfected from their brethren; the colony could still survive.

    ==========================================

    It was too late.

    Even before she¡¯d reached the base of the tree there was no saving anyone. Order hoped that the disposition she¡¯d observed in Leffy might have been replicated in the other beasts ¨C that they might be too focused with desecrating a single body to attack others.

    The periodic tossing of bodies ¨C some dead, some still very much alive - off the treetops proved otherwise.

    Splat.

    There went another one. Each impact highlighted the steadily diminishing time that still remained. Order regarded the flattened mush of a body, hands on her hips as she ran through her options. Perhaps she could still carry out the plan to select a couple of the seemingly unaffected and isolate them from this chaos.

    Splat.

    Or¡­ or she could still hunt down the rampaging infected; they were the problem here, not the potentially corrupted. Kill off all the mutants, worry about sorting through the rest later.

    Splat.

    No, that¡¯d take too long; there was only three of them, and two of the Gods available to handle the rapidly declining situation needed to light their energy reserves on fire just to be able to restrain the animals. Even if they did catch one or two, the remaining beasts would simply go after the unaffected. And a single one of them could kill hundreds.

    Splat.

    Order gritted her teeth. No, the time for salvation was over. There was no helping any potential survivors. They¡¯d likely have been infected by now, in any case. And she couldn¡¯t risk the other organisms present on the planet. At the moment, the infection was isolated to the elves that were present in this part of the planet. Wipe them out and it¡¯d be settled.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Splat.

    Splat.

    Splat.

    It was decided, then. Cauterize the wound, prevent the proliferation of the disease. Wasn¡¯t ideal, but in the circumstances that was all she could do. Order removed a non-descript piece of black chalk from a leather pouch from her belt. Most of her pouches held measurement instruments, items which helped to confirm estimates or theoretical figures. The contents of this pouch, on the other hand, were kept separate for a different reason.

    The reason being that they were meant for large scale destruction.

    ¡°Um, lady? No time for arts and crafts here. There¡¯s a whole riot going up there in the trees ¨C aren¡¯t you going to stop them from killing everyone?¡±

    Order ignored Stories, continuing to outline the base of¡­ She looked up, counting the treetops with a finger. Seven. Seven trees. After the lopsided oblong was completed, she took a few steps back and double-checked her work. Yep, seven trees.

    ¡°God of Survival, I will require your assistance with this.¡±

    ¡°Really, mate? I know you¡¯re in charge and all, but I already did the¡­ you know,¡± Survival clasped his hands together, miming a double-palm crushing. ¡°Get Stories to do it; he hasn¡¯t done anything since we got here.¡±

    ¡°Hey! I helped you with the uh¡­ with the¡­ no, wait, that was Order. Ok, but I¡¯m still very useful!¡±

    ¡°I would, as you say, loop the God of Stories and Creativity in on this. However,¡± Order glared at the clueless idiot. ¡°Neither he nor I have the requisite divine energy to activate the Incineration Matrix of the God of Death and Taxes. I¡¯ve always gotten around this limitation with the help of a friend of mine, but that was for small scale burnings. The size of a wastepaper basket. Given that our target this time is seven fully grown redwood behemoths, the proportional requirements will exclude either of us Gods from helping. You, on the other hand, have an entire planet-sized bubble of energy that you¡¯ve been maintaining the entire time we¡¯ve been here. Redirect that to the chalk delineation as you¡¯ve done before - with your hands, to be more specific.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait. We¡¯ve not gotten to the point where incineration is necessary, have we? There are still people we can save up there! Living, sentient organisms!¡±

    ¡°This is the only way. You think I want to wipe out these specimens because I want to?¡± Order snapped back. Stories, as per usual, thought with his heart; not his brain. The mutates were faster, stronger, and more vicious than every elf that lived in the tribe. If the Gods were to prioritise saving the elven race over exterminating these carriers, one could escape, running off into the forest. All it would take would be one. And the planet would be overrun with exponentially increasing copies of them.

    ¡°Think of something! You¡¯re the God of Knowledge, dammit! You¡¯re smart! Don¡¯t just kill them all because it¡¯ll be harder!¡±

    ¡°Do it.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re the boss, mate.¡± Survival shrugged, taking up position by the chalk drawing. With a little effort, he forced out his divine might through his palms, the white light of materialization blinding everyone present, a show of the sheer torrent of power currently being poured into the Incineration Matrix.

    Almost immediately, a translucent, grey frame shot out, outlining the seven redwoods with lines that criss-crossed its form. This was the preliminary stage, where the mechanism of the Matrix felt out what it was to destroy, to confirm the size, mass and shape of its target, and to make sure that everything within its confines were to be removed from this world with great prejudice. The elf mutants noticed the Matrix just as it had completed its encasing of their hunting grounds. It was the unmistakable smell of heat; the singing of the hairs in one¡¯s nostrils as you approached a campfire.

    One brave mutant tried his luck, leaping off a branch to aim for a nearby, untouched tree. Alas, he impacted the grid of grey lines and was halted instantly. Escape was impossible for mortals that did not know how this device functioned, least of all beasts that only knew how to bite and scratch. It began to claw wildly at the strange wall of lines howling a bestial war cry as it clung to the side. So ferocious was its attempt to break free from its new and final prison that it hardly noticed that the heat within the Matrix was beginning to intensify.

    The grey lines now shifted in colour, gradually glowing red-hot as it entered the final stages of what it had been created to do. In this process, every line in the matrix would connect with its partner on the opposing side of the wall, attaching to one another with extended threads of intangible red. These threads would phase through anything within, linking up one by one. Innumerable linkages would be made at this moment, forming at first a web-like structure, then increasing bit by bit until the only colour that anyone or anything could perceive within the Matrix would be a vivid crimson.

    Only at this point would the Incineration Matrix fulfil its purpose, sending through its weave of lines temperatures exceeding that of any nearby star, and holding this level of heat until everything within was returned back to their most basic elements, leaving naught but empty space behind. Usually about one and a half seconds.

    Order watched the Matrix complete its task, and fold back in onto its chalk projector, then advanced to rub it out with her boot. Hardly anything other than a passing lesser God could reactivate the Matrix, but why leave it to chance? Satisfied with the removal of the mechanism, she spun around to talk to the two lesser Gods.

    Survival was still staring awed at the space where the seven trees once stood, now reduced to nothingness. Stories had on an indescribable expression of frustration; like he wanted to shout at Order for resorting to that, yet also understanding that the severity of the situation may have warranted an equally harsh response.

    She clapped her hands together sharply to get the two¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Now. After action review.¡±

 Chapter 28

    ¡°The God of Survival¡¯s talent, according to my understanding, seems to be focused on the rule of survival of the fittest. In light scatterings, it makes people want to submit to those that are stronger than them. As I¡¯ve mentioned before: an instant hierarchical society. In large doses, on the other hand, it would boost the individual to their peak performance. The strongest and fastest that they¡¯ll ever be. This was where I was correct.¡± Order placed two fingers to her temples, massaging them in slow, circular motions as she sighed.

    ¡°Subjects displayed hypertrophy of muscle groups in upper and lower body in addition to an increased sense of smell, but in exchange for a diminishing of the ability to see. Perhaps they¡¯d be able to see vague outlines of objects in the distance, but they¡¯d be hard-pressed to provide detailed descriptions to anyone that asks. I¡¯d say that¡¯s an objective improvement; sight isn¡¯t required to procreate, and mortals so very often prioritise looks over genetics. Unfortunately, in my haste to confirm my theory, I inadvertently¡­ underestimated the side effects of the transmission.¡±

    ¡°Although that wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if either of you were here to keep an eye on all our subjects¡­ I will take full responsibility as the lead researcher.¡± She paused to glare at the two, before continuing.

    ¡°The side effects appear to be a regressing of the higher brain functions to prioritise the latter half of the God of Survival¡¯s ability: the portion about the ¡°fittest¡±. This led to subject Leffy, in a bid to prove his superiority to his companion, ending the life of subject Barkly. And in closing, allowing subject Treen to return to her home, thereby spreading the infection to the rest of the elven tribe¡­ was a huge error that should have been avoided at all costs.¡±

    Again, this could have been prevented if she¡¯d just¡­ tied up the three of them. Or used more restrictive barriers that didn¡¯t amount to a simple plastic tarp. And to her credit, she didn¡¯t know that more controls would have been required; after all, her previous experiment ended with the subjects liquefying, not morphing into harbingers of death and destruction.

    Oh well. She¡¯d do better next time. Cages, probably.

    ¡°Any questions?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah, I¡¯ve got one: WHY KILL ALL OF THEM?! WE COULD HAVE SAVED A FEW! OR AT LEAST KEPT ONE OR TWO OF THEM ALIVE!¡±

    ¡°There was no time; no possible way that the three of us could round up and protect even a few of them. Let¡¯s say we saved¡­ seven of them. Or eight; the number doesn¡¯t matter. What does matter, is that while we were dallying about creating some protective field for them to cower within, our attentions would be split. One mutant. If just a single one ran off, touching deer, fish, birds¡­ the entire planet, within a couple of days, would become unliveable to anything but mutants.¡± Order spoke gravely.

    Then she stopped, thinking carefully about her next words. An appeal to logic, to deflect further questioning by pointing out the failings of the more humane options?

    No. This was Stories. The God was a bleeding-heart deity, through and through. He prioritised emotions over logic and reason. Sure, she¡¯d get him with a lie here and a half-truth there. But there¡¯d always be an underlying sense of distrust between the two. And that could affect the experiments. Heck, it already did; if he put the experiment first over his pointless desire to go sight-seeing, that elf Treen wouldn¡¯t have run off. And subsequently, the test wouldn¡¯t have ended in catastrophe. She needed to re-establish a baseline level of trust, for the both of them to know that what they were doing was the right course of action.

    Order sucked in a deep breath. The truth, then.

    ¡°I admit that I¡­ selected this planet in particular to get back at the God of Life and Creation for giving you the ability to veto my actions (not that you actually managed to do anything about it this time.) But there was always a plan put in place to ensure that the native population of elves would recover over time, I didn¡¯t intend to wipe them all out. These are my honest, unfiltered thoughts.¡±

    Stories eyed her over, trying to uncover the deception in her words. This wily hag was always scheming, finding new avenues to hurt or to destroy to get what she wanted. But the silent seven minutes of scrutinizing turned up nothing; by all accounts, she seemed to be genuinely telling the truth, in her own twisted way. After all, she wouldn¡¯t have readily offered up the fact that she was choosing her subjects in bad faith if she didn¡¯t intend to speak sincerely.

    ¡°Let¡¯s say I believe you. Why turn over a new leaf now? Why tell the truth?¡±

    ¡°What happened here today cannot happen a third time. The two of us need to be on the same page - to work together to ensure that nothing as terrible as what happened today happens again. If not for me, then for the mortals that we¡¯ll be interacting with. For that to happen, you need to be present at all times, to provide overwatch. Not gallivanting about our chosen testing grounds doing heaven knows what. In exchange, I¡¯ll tell you the reason for everything I¡¯m doing, the basis behind my opinions and thought processes. It¡¯ll be up to you to decide if I¡¯m doing the right thing, or if I should reconsider my choice.¡±

    Stories frowned as he mulled over her speech. This was her telling the truth? She sucked. Where was the pity parade, the endless tearjerkers intended to sway his heart? Or the carrots dangling from sticks that¡¯d entice him to comply? Even speaking truthfully she just couldn¡¯t help but inject it with her brand of reasoning and rationalisations as to why her way was the correct way.

    ¡°Deal.¡±

    She was, of course, right.

    Stories wouldn¡¯t be doing it for her, but for the mortals that would definitely be hurt by her trials. The experiments were Life-sanctioned, after all, so they¡¯d be proceeding even with the recent failures. And one extra set of eyes couldn¡¯t hurt. Stories didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be able to stop her from carrying out her plans; she could out-talk and out-logic him or spin some reasonable lie that¡¯d persuade him into giving in to her. But he could be there to keep it from going too far.

    ¡°Yeah, sorry ¡®bout interrupting your lovers¡¯ quarrel, guys, but I¡¯ve got one question of my own that needs answering, too.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Order turned to the titan. ¡°Yes, God of Survival?¡±

    ¡°Can I go now?¡±

    ======================================================

    ¡°I¡¯M NOT LOST! I¡¯VE LIVED HERE FOR A HUNDRED DARNED YEARS! YOU¡¯D THINK I¡¯D KNOW WHERE MY OWN HOUSE IS!¡± Acorn yelled into the empty clearing where he was sure the elven tribe¡¯s redwood treehouses had been. And it wasn¡¯t as if he was going senile at 146, his golden years were still ahead of him!

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying you¡¯re lost, dear. Just that we might have¡­ gotten turned around. It¡¯s been five years, after all. Look, you said you wanted to get away for good, didn¡¯t you? Settle down away from all the stresses of civilisation and just¡­ build a family out in the wild?¡± His wife, Evelyn, cajoled him as she cradled their baby in her arms, cooing softly as she rocked the infant back and forth. She wasn¡¯t too concerned with the sudden mysterious vanishing of the elven ancestral homes. If she had been, she would have mentioned something before they¡¯d left on a trip to explore the planet. The spontaneity of her husband was what attracted her to him in the first place. And coincidentally, that spontaneity was also what spared them from a early death at the hands of the Gods that had visited just two years earlier.

    ¡°Yes, but I still want my stuff. I had signed treeballs from champions in my room. Those are collector¡¯s items! Oh- and my first spear! Manuals on hunting and archery! Things I was planning to leave to little Cairn over here AND PEOPLE DON¡¯T JUST UP AND LEAVE IN 5 YEARS! LUDICROUS!¡±

    ¡°Oh Acorn¡­¡±

    ¡°BOB¡¯S PROBABLY BEHIND THIS! DAMNED SAP-HUFFER STILL OWES ME EIGHTY LEAVES FOR THE BATHROOM I HELPED HIM INSTALL! WHEN I FIND HIM, I¡¯LL SNAP HIM LIKE A TWIG!¡±

    The two elves didn¡¯t know it yet, but they were the last remaining members of the elven tribe left on the planet and locating any of their acquaintances would be an outright impossibility. Additionally, if the two of them decided to stop with a single child, the elven race would end with their bloodline; extinct due to the whims of a single couple.

    It could be said to be a stroke of luck, then, that Evelyn was planning on raising a whole litter of children to fawn over. She¡¯d go on to mother twenty seven children, and those children would have children of their own, eventually reviving elven civilisation as a whole. A very inbred elvish society, to be sure - but one that was still alive.

    And alive beat dead, every time.

    ======================================================

    ¡°Alright, so you stand over here¡­ and you¡­ you stand over here.¡± Survival guided the two mortals he¡¯d selected to their starting positions with light shoves from a large index finger. They¡¯d been provided with weapons in racks to the side, of course, but Survival was pretty sure they¡¯d go unused.

    ¡°Ok, that¡¯s good, mate. Just wait about¡­ another three-ish minutes, and we can begin.¡± Survival, satisfied with the oblivious mortals staying in place, excitedly hopped up the steps of his throne, his feet impacting the rock with heavy thumps. As soon as he got to the obsidian chair, he slid into a comfortable lounging position and looked down at the arena he¡¯d instructed his blue-skinned subjects to construct.

    Simple, to be sure.

    Just a standard colosseum, complete with spectator stands that were now filled with similarly clueless natives that were murmuring amongst themselves about what their king was obsessed with this time. A few of them groaned as they recognised what this was. Survival had actually tried this before, but to little effect. Gladiators fighting to the death sounded thrilling on paper, but the natives of Genesis 15 were built small, weak. After the first battle between two scrawny males ended rather anticlimactically with one sticking the other with a thrown spear after a bout of tag, Survival had cancelled the whole thing, citing ¡°boredom¡±.

    But this time, Survival rubbed his hands with glee. About a minute to go now. The trip to go help Order hadn¡¯t been a wasted one after all. Yes, she¡¯d bossed him about a little, and he didn¡¯t even get to bring back an elf or two as a souvenir. But she¡¯d certainly gifted him with a new form of entertainment. One that didn¡¯t involve just getting his servants to wait on him hand and foot. Or commanding them to create statues of him to show their devotion. And definitely nothing like the amateur hour that was the gladiator show he¡¯d put on before.

    The two nameless natives stood there, each sizing the other up, waiting for the signal to begin from their master. They didn¡¯t know each other, the planet was a huge one, after all. And they¡¯d happily do as their leader asked. But there was definitely an underlying feeling that this whole spectacle was meaningless. How were they supposed to fight to the standards that their God expected?

    Then it began.

    The corners of Survival¡¯s lips began to curl upwards as he gripped the sides of his throne, leaning forward to capture every moment of the transformation with his retinas. Every growing bulge of muscle, every snarl and snort, the shifting of posture as each of the two gladiators crouched down, assuming an animalistic stance on all fours. The spectators were quiet now, sensing that this fight was going to be different from the others. The mutants launched themselves at each other, tearing and ripping skin as they began a macabre dance of death, exchanging wild blows and claws like the steps of a passionate samba.

    There were gasps now, the fight eliciting shocked reactions from those that had never seen such unbridled fervour from members of their own race. But Survival could also make out the faces of some younger males, and he grinned at the sight. It was hard to mistake the face of exhilaration and awe.

    Yes, yes! This was what Survival wanted to show his people the first time he¡¯d thought of putting on a gladiator fight. The struggle to live, to feel the lifeblood of your enemy splash onto your body! Naturally, he¡¯d deal with the aftermath by exterminating the winner of this fight, there¡¯d be no problem with the disease spreading there. But he¡¯d have successfully planted the seeds of his ideals in a couple young, impressionable minds, who would strive to improve themselves through training and competition. And that was good enough for the God of Survival.

    This was what true survival was all about.

 Chapter 29

    ¡°Looks like it¡¯s going to be a couple of weeks before you¡¯ll be back. The God of Adaptability is in Genesis 37.¡± Order fiddled with the aura scanner as she spoke. ¡°As usual, I¡¯ll prepare the materials for the pre-experiment briefing. Yes, you¡¯ll be privy to the details this time. No, I won¡¯t protest if you want to end the test prematurely. I believe that there won¡¯t be a need to go through the whole process of getting more than one experiment subject. We just need to find out how his ability works on one lifeform, and we can go from there if the effects are aligned with our goals.¡±

    ¡°This is the last of the three lesser Gods that you¡¯ve selected, right? What are you going to do if this one¡¯s a dud too?¡±

    ¡°He won¡¯t be.¡± Order handed the device back to Stories, materialising and unfurling her wings in preparation for the long flight back to the divine realm. ¡°Adaptability ¨C change - is key to a long lifespan. If you were able to evolve in a way that bypassed a natural demise, that¡¯d satisfy the parameters of the problem. I have in my Library several records of mortal lifeforms that can exist for over four centuries due to the unique composition of their bodies, which allow them to withstand extreme pressure conditions that¡¯d kill most any other mortal beings.¡±

    ¡°Wait a minute - that sounds perfect! Grab a couple of them, we¡¯ll get more info about how they work, extract what we need, presto-changeo, we¡¯ve solved the whole problem! Whew, and here I was, thinking that it¡¯ll be another torturous session of solitary flight.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately for our purposes, their biology also excludes them from viability. I hardly think that the God of Life and Creation wants all mortals reduced to deep-sea fish with no other purpose in life other than to float about and suck down plankton. Intelligence is a non-negotiable aspect of determining the success of our experiment.¡±

    ¡°Gah¡­¡± Stories groaned. ¡°Looks like I¡¯m going to be talking to myself again for another two weeks again.¡±

    ¡°Four weeks.¡± Order willed her wings to move, stirring up tiny clouds of dirt as they pushed downwards forcefully to lift her body off the ground. But before she made her exit, something else crossed her mind. She hovered there a moment thinking, suspended in the air by the periodic flapping of her wings.

    Right, Stories might need a little heads-up with the next of their collaborators.

    ¡°Oh, before I go, I should probably warn you about the God of Adaptability. He¡¯s a little¡­ eccentric.¡±

    ¡°What, more than Survival was?¡± Stories scoffed.

    ¡°Well, I knew how the God of Survival would act. He has a one-track mind, after all. Might makes right. And I beat him at his game, so there was no way he¡¯d ignore a summons from me. The God of Adaptability, on the other hand¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t scare me, bro. How can anyone be worse than Survival?!¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ watch yourself. Wouldn¡¯t want to conduct this experiment down a man before we even begin.¡±

    With a wry smile, Order flew off, leaving the lesser God alone with his increasingly uneasy thoughts.

    ======================================================

    ¡°Hey, uh, God of Adaptability¡­? I know you¡¯re here¡­ somewhere¡­ If you need to know who I am, I¡¯m the God of Stories! Could ya come out? This place is seriously creepy as heeeck, dude, so the less time I gotta spend here, the better.¡± Stories called out as he nervously touched down onto barren, red soil. There was nothing for miles out. Only sand and rock as far as the eyes could see. The eerie, deafening silence itself seemed to be an indication that this entire planet was just a lifeless rock.

    Stories gulped. He wasn¡¯t too good with horror stories; he was a drama and romance dude all the way. And this place just felt like a set-up for a clueless, helpless God like himself to be devoured by some eldritch horror driven insane by isolation, that¡¯d wrap its tentacles about his body and pull him down into some dark abyss where it¡¯d spend the next twenty years plucking off strips of godflesh from his body and snacking on him like he was some party platter. No, thank you.

    Stories re-checked the black device that had led him here. No mistake. The aura scanner had pointed to this wasteland devoid of life. This was definitely the location that housed the divine form of the God of Adaptability. The problem with that, was then the fact that Stories hadn¡¯t noticed the tell-tale signs of godly aura spilling out anywhere.

    Even a lesser God with the least amount of divine energy was still visible from a distance as an indistinct mote of light in the eyes of their peers, since it was the construction of their bodies itself which allowed for lesser Gods to identify one another from range. Even the smallest candle flame still gave off light and heat ¨C it was an immutable law of reality.

    But here, there was nothing. Not even a glimpse of the expected divine glow.

    Maybe Adaptability¡¯s like, a ghost God. Do ghost Gods exist? Stories anxiously stepped forward, sweaty palms gripping the scanner as he followed the green arrow. The existence of the God himself wasn¡¯t in question, at the very least; Order had met him, after all.

    But what was it she said he was? Eccentric? Eccentric how? Eccentric like, he liked the taste of apples and only ate apples eccentric? Or eccentric like he went around slaughtering mortals and bathing in their blood eccentric? There was a rather large gulf between the two ends of the spectrum; Order probably should have clarified which it was.

    ¡°Or maybe the scanner¡¯s broken. Order¡¯s had it for a while, I doubt she¡¯d have taken the time to go have it checked by Technology¡­ silly, dumb Order¡­ Right! It¡¯s decided, then. I¡¯ll look around for another ten minutes, and if there¡¯s nothing of note here, I¡¯ll go back to the divine realm where it¡¯s nice and safe and free from scary tentacle creatures... and have the scanner repaired. No biggie.¡± Stories nervously muttered out loud.

    To no one in particular.

    It wasn¡¯t as if two weeks of sensory deprivation followed by being forced to walk about in an obvious backdrop for a horror novel was getting on his nerves. No sirree. It wasn¡¯t like being cut off from contact with other lifeforms that could talk and laugh and do things was dredging up some deep, unresolved fears of being buried alive, of being covered in dirt and soil and being unable to enjoy the joys that living brought-

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Stop.¡± A sharp something prodded against his back. Stories breathed a sigh of relief.

    Finally!

    He complied with the command, slowly raising his arms in surrender. It had taken a while, but the God of Adaptability had finally poked his head out of his hidey-hole. Another five minutes of dead silence and Stories might have broken down and started curling up in a fetal position right then and there.

    ¡°Oh, good. I presume you¡¯re the-¡°

    ¡°You speak when you are SPOKEN to. Why are you here?¡± A hoarse, deep voice rumbled as the pointed edge of what Stories assumed to be a blade of some sort pressed deeper into his back. But by now, Stories was more annoyed than scared. Was this guy being for real right now?

    ¡°Dude, we¡¯re Gods; I¡¯m not going to be afraid of a titchy knife like that. Don¡¯t think that¡¯ll even scratch my skin.¡± Stories spun about and slapped the short dagger out of Adaptability¡¯s hands, who had jumped back a little in shock at the sudden shift in his prey¡¯s demeanour. ¡°And were you trying to lower your voice? That was atrocious. You should work on that.¡±

    Finally coming face to face with the lesser God, Stories understood what Order meant by eccentric.

    Adaptability was, for lack of a better word, the dictionary definition of a wimp. He was at least a head shorter than Stories was, and his stature was like that of a young teenager¡¯s (small), which certainly wasn¡¯t helped by his hunched, tense posture. His attire, if you could call it that, was a black cloak draped over his body loosely, which was in turn swaddled with what looked to be grey bandages. The bottom half of his face was partially obscured by a mask, but Stories didn¡¯t need to see all of the God¡¯s facial features to draw conclusions about him; just the two blue eyes that shifted nervously, seemingly trying to avoid eye contact with his peer.

    ¡°You¡¯re just a paranoid little twerp, arent¡¯cha? Everything about you screams, ¡°Agh! Get away from me! Don¡¯t hurt me!¡± What, you think someone¡¯s after your life or something?¡±

    ¡°¡­you wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± Adaptability¡¯s voice had dropped to a squeaky, barely audible whisper now. He¡¯d dropped to his knees to pick up the small dagger, which was less an action to retrieve the weapon and more an excuse to hide his face from view. Bad with social interactions too, huh?

    Well, Stories would soon fix that.

    ¡°Nah, I think I get¡¯cha pretty well; you just need to get out more, that¡¯s all! Which is why I¡¯m here, incidentally.¡±

    ¡°¡­huh?¡± Adaptability looked up at Stories in mild confusion. Get out more¡­ where?

    ¡°Life said as long as I¡¯m supplying mortals with divine aura I can hide wherever I want.¡±

    ¡°What mortals? There¡¯s nothing here!¡±

    ¡°No, look.¡± Adaptability scrabbled through the dirt, creating a small hole in the ground as he searched for something. ¡°Ah, here.¡± He reached into the hole and closed his fist over the object and pulled it out. Stories leaned in curiously as the other God opened his fist. Flailing about within was a pulsating mass of worms, wriggling about as they tried to return to the warm embrace of the earth below.

    ¡°Invertebrates and insects count as mortals, too.¡± Adaptability crouched back down and returned the disoriented worms back to their home, and filled the crater back up with soil.

    ¡°Oh¡­ kay¡­ anyways, back to what I was saying; It¡¯s your lucky day! You¡¯ve been selected by Order to help out with a little experiment of ours! Hooray!¡± Stories started clapping mockingly as Adaptability digested this new tidbit of information.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re from madam Order¡¯s place. Okay, I¡¯ll come along.¡± Adaptability¡¯s tone of voice had changed dramatically, from an unsure, timid chatter, to a calmer, more steady timbre.

    ¡°Huh.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem too happy about that.¡±

    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m just¡­ curious¡­ about why you agreed so readily.¡± Stories cupped his chin with a palm as he stared at Adaptability, who promptly turned away, pulling up his cloak to cover his face. Survival, he understood, but it was hard seeing this cowardly deity connecting with that shrew.

    ¡°Because of these,¡± Still hiding his face, Adaptability pulled out a strip of the grey bandage wrapped around his form and offered it to Stories, who picked up the material and rubbed it with two fingers. It seemed to be just coarse fabric, but there was something about the texture that prickled under his skin. Like small, tiny thorns that jutted out from its surface.

    ¡°She helped come up with these after she interviewed me; it can interfere with the expression of a God¡¯s divine aura. Makes it harder for people I don¡¯t want finding me to, well, find me.¡± Adaptability jerked the strip out of Stories¡¯ hand and tucked it back into the bindings.

    ¡°Well, alright then. That''s that mystery solved. Let¡¯s go, then.¡± Stories shrugged, then proceeded to kick off the ground, propelling himself into the air.

    But after about a minute or so of flying, Stories looked back to find that Adaptability hadn¡¯t followed him. He groaned, then turned back around to go pick up his charge.

    ¡°You know, when someone says, ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± that¡¯s the cue for you to, y¡¯know, follow them.¡± Stories landed back in front of the other lesser God, who was seated leaning against a rock.

    ¡°I know my way back. You go first, I¡¯ll return later. You might have been followed; I don¡¯t want them to find out I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°WHO¡¯S THEM?! THERE¡¯S NO ONE AROUND FOR MILES!¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ go first. I¡¯ll be behind you. I promise.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ but¡­¡± Stories spluttered as he gestured with shaky hands.

    ¡°Really; message received. I know Order wants me back in the divine realm, I¡¯ll show up at her Library as soon as I make sure they aren¡¯t around.¡± Adaptability waved dismissively at him, then returned to looking about for his supposed pursuers. (That most definitely did not exist.)

    ¡°GAH!¡± Stories screamed in exasperation as he leapt up once more, returning to normal flight. Summing up his escort missions thus far, he¡¯d been threatened with severe injury by a giant and now he¡¯d be returning home without the person he¡¯d been sent to get. (Renewal didn¡¯t count, she was very sweet.)

    Could Order pick worse candidates to help with her experiment?

 Chapter 30

    ¡°And I¡¯m saying, why do you have to be so stubborn about this one aspect of the experiment? The first go around was fine! We got the data we needed without having to endanger the actually important mortals!¡±

    Adaptability poked his head through the floor, cautiously scanning his surroundings for his shadowy pursuers. He¡¯d made sure to bundle up nice and good, the special energy-masking rags wrapped fully around every inch of exposed skin. Other than his eyes, of course. He still needed to see where he was going. The end result of this judicious binding was that he was now more mummy than God, but appearances were a small price to pay for safety.

    ¡°Apologies, God of Stories and Creativity, I¡¯m new to this¡­ ¡°being nice to people¡± routine, so forgive me if I step on any toes here, but are you implying that we treat less intelligent mortals as less important? Additionally, outside of your frankly condescending labelling of that subset of mortals, I don¡¯t see a solid argument for reverting to our previous methods of picking what amounts to livestock as test subjects.¡±

    He knew how he sounded, of course; all jumpy and paranoid, fearful of potential assassins lurking behind every corner. But this self-awareness didn¡¯t preclude his personality turning out the way he did. Gods just came the way they did, after all.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try that with me, lady. You know what I mean. Life wants the smart bunch to live longer; he couldn¡¯t care less about the other dumb ones! Of course, he doesn¡¯t know where the smart ones are, or if new intelligent races have developed anywhere over the course of centuries; that¡¯s why he¡¯s taking that roundabout way of manufacturing more of us! And wait, you¡¯re calling them livestock! That¡¯s way worse than what I said!¡±

    Besides, the other Gods were the weird ones, not him: did they really think that Gods were the apex of all existences? There was bound to be a greater, higher tier species, far outside of their ability to perceive. What would happen if afore-mentioned beings decided to snuff them out, just like that? They needed to protect themselves! And blotting out the one identifiable characteristic that Gods projected outwards at all times; why, that¡¯d keep those beings from tracking him!

    ¡°I¡¯ve never pretended that I didn¡¯t hold the belief that all mortals are lowly beings. Coming from you, on the other hand¡­ when you¡¯ve been so active in advocating for them? Besides, that¡¯s what I¡¯m saying; if the God of Life and Creation wants the perfected method to work for his intended targets, we need to test on that group rather than lollygag and work with mortals that have already hit their evolutionary limit at conception. Going back to beasts and creatures when we have humanoid, speech-capable civilisations, is a huge step back.¡±

    ¡°Hello.¡±

    ¡°WHAT THE SHI-oh, it¡¯s you. Thought some bloody nightmare creature had hitched a ride back with me for a minute there. Nice of you to join us, Adaptability. But maybe use a louder voice next time? And a heads-up before you creep up behind me would be real great, thanks.¡± Stories had flung himself backwards at the sudden appearance of a mummy in the Library, and was now swimming back sheepishly to join the two.

    ¡°Greetings, God of Adaptability. Now we can begin the briefing proper.¡± Order extended a hand towards the newcomer, but noted after a moment that he was uncomfortable with the gesture, as he''d chosen instead to bow lightly at his senior. So withdrawing the hand, she proceeded with the presentation. Pulling down a canvas screen, Order picked up a remote and tapped the play button on its front to engage the projector.

    ¡°Blessed 34 is located here, behind this orange star. You weren¡¯t here for this earlier, but the God of Stories and Creativity had a bit of a fuss about my choice of testing grounds. All cleared up now, I hope?¡± Order looked pointedly at Stories, who crossed his arms and turned away in a huff.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your silence as a begrudging consent. If you¡¯d direct your attention here, the target specimen mortals for today¡¯s experiment will be these,¡± She clicked the remote, revealing an artistic rendering of a diminutive individual with stubby arms and legs. The artist didn¡¯t put much effort into detailing the features of this being, but apparently the scowl was important enough to make it into the final cut.

    ¡°Dwarves; I think that¡¯s what they called themselves last I met them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve met them before, then? Did you talk to them?¡± Stories perked up at that, floating closer to the screen. This was new. As long as Stories had known her (and it wasn¡¯t a particularly long period of time), Order had been shown to be more concerned with maintaining a wide selection of information, but as for the depth of the information she¡¯d collected¡­ that was less of a priority to her. That was evident from how she¡¯d mistakenly assumed the elves would be little more than monkeys in her last test.

    ¡°If you¡¯ve picked them, then I¡¯m assuming they¡¯re at least a few rungs above livestock.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re¡­ how should I explain this succinctly?¡± Order hesitated. Then her eyes lit up. ¡°Ah! I think this analogy will do. Have you met the God of Greed and Gluttony?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Like him, but smaller. And more numerous.¡±

    ¡°Ooh. Not great, then.¡±

    Order nodded in response. Yeah, she didn¡¯t much care for these dwarves either. One Greed was bad enough - now imagine that multiplied by a factor of a thousand! Just a swarm of haughty, covetous things, scuttling about and cramming their pockets full of precious gems and valuable knick-knacks as they roamed the planet, babbling incoherently to one another about their new acquisitions.

    ¡°Luckily, it isn¡¯t too difficult to get them to cooperate with our purposes. With sufficient compensation, I daresay they¡¯d easily offer up themselves for testing. Maybe even their first-born.¡±

    ¡°It sounds less like you¡¯re describing rational sentient mortals and more like you¡¯re talking about mythical fae. But ok, that¡¯s the question of procurement settled, at least. Tell us more about where they live. Cause if they¡¯re anything like Greed, they aren¡¯t going to be strutting about for us to find. You gotta keep your hoard safe, amirite or amirite?¡± He nudged Adaptability, who flinched away from the touch.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°That¡¯s the next slide, actually.¡± Order tapped the remote again. ¡°My records note that they¡¯re a mostly subterranean race; so sprawling networks of underground tunnels, musty catacombs, confined spaces.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like you,¡± Stories frowned. ¡°What, are you telling me that you, little miss Tidy, crawled around on all fours through miles of dank tunnels just for her scoop? I''m not buying it.¡±

    ¡°No, because I didn¡¯t have to. They don¡¯t stay down there all the time, there¡¯s a cluster of them out and about on the surface doing farm work for the collective in exchange for a steady salary of shiny rocks. There¡¯s nothing really different in terms of biology between the two groups, so I¡¯ll settle for one of the surface-dwellers, instead.¡±

    ¡°Hey, yeah, for that matter, how¡¯d you communicate? The elves were one thing, that was our good buddy Greed¡¯s doing, but these mortals only act like him. Unless I¡¯m mistaken, they don¡¯t speak God, right? Are you¡¯re saying Greed visited his would-be doppelgangers? Did ya conduct a lecture on basic literacy or something? Or what, did you get a language lesson from the farmers?¡±

    She raised a slender arm. ¡°You would be correct in assuming that I did not have time to spare deciphering the nuances of dwarven-speak. It¡¯s a collection of grunts and snorts that vaguely indicate what the speaker wants to convey. Luckily, I have a workaround for that.¡±

    ¡°Why do you have to talk in riddles all the time? Do you have a daily quota for confusing people around you? I¡¯m at least 80% sure you know I¡¯m not as smar- oh, you mean your ability! Gotcha.¡±

    Order sighed. At least she¡¯d gotten through the whole briefing without Stories moralizing about how they should re-focus their sights onto a lower life-form. She looked over at the quiet God in the corner, who¡¯d mostly been averting his eyes and twiddling his thumbs as he waited for the presentation to reach its conclusion. Well, silent and still¡¯s better than boisterous and obstructive, she supposed. He¡¯s only the method of delivery, after all. All he has to do is shoot where we tell him to.

    ¡°God of Adaptability?¡±

    The mummy jerked up. ¡°Who, me? I was listening!¡±

    ¡°No need to worry; I don¡¯t need you to do anything more than inject a mortal with your divine ability. That doable for you?¡±

    Adaptability bobbed his head up and down. ¡°Anything you need, ma¡¯am. I¡¯m still indebted to you for all this.¡± He motioned at the full-body weave he was wearing.

    ¡°Alright, then.¡±

    Order clicked the projector off, and proceeded to the elevator. ¡°I¡¯ll see you there. You two can go ahead and scout for a suitable holding area. I¡¯ll be there momentarily. Just have to get a few tools from the God of Technology¡¯s place. While you were away, I requested some sturdier restraints that the simple plastic sheet we were using.¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­ just leave me to drag the paranoid bloke around, then! That¡¯ll definitely go well!¡± Stories called out behind her. ¡°And I know you can¡¯t see these, but I¡¯m miming air quotes around that last bit! It¡¯s called sarcasm!¡±

    ¡°¡­hey, I¡¯m not going to follow right next to you, they¡¯ll notice me! I¡¯ll¡­ keep a healthy distance from you. A few minutes of distance, at least.¡±

    ¡°LIKE I SAID, WHO¡¯S THEY?!¡±

    Order sighed, stabbing the button for the ground floor.

    At least she¡¯d have some time away from the two for now, but if this carried on, she might legitimately consider extracting the vocal chords of the one she¡¯d have to deal with for the next however many years this experiment was going to take.

    ==========================================

    ¡°Yeah, these¡¯ll do fine.¡± Order ran her fingers over the metal bars of the cage. It wasn¡¯t an outrageously large one, just a medium-ish size, probably able to house two to three humanoids. Or a particularly feral mutant, she thought to herself. ¡°And you mentioned that it folds?¡±

    ¡°Yep! You¡¯ve known me for centuries, Order ¨C all my stuff folds.¡± Technology flashed a winning grin at the woman. ¡°Just unlatch the front bits, and push down from the roof. After that it¡¯s a matter of rolling it up. Like a sushi roll.¡± He demonstrated the process thusly, collapsing the contraption in on itself.

    Order did meet up with Technology once in a while ¨C mostly to obtain something to assist with recording new information or reading measurements that were hard to pin down by looking at it alone. Sure, she could tap into her ability, but why waste energy when you can use some device to substitute its usage?

    And he was happy to oblige; the man liked coming up with new things all the time and Order was his number one customer. Had to do with his calling, she supposed. Couldn¡¯t keep still for a moment.

    ¡°My gratitude to you, God of Technology and Advancement. If you need my help with anything in future, just ask.¡± He waved it off casually. ¡°Order, all I need from you is more requests! I¡¯m already up to my eighty-seventh iteration of my self-driving chopsticks.¡± He produced a set of thin metal rods from his stained apron, which proceeded to hop out of his hand and lay themselves next to a waiting metal plate.

    ¡°Still gotta work out the kinks with the feeding bit; keeps stabbing me in the eye when I present it with a bowl of rice¡­ my point is, I¡¯m running out of things to work on! The cage hardly took any time to come up with!¡±

    ¡°Understood, I¡¯ll spend some time drafting up a list of things that¡¯ll greatly improve my workflow.¡± Order responded to his desperate pleas with an assurance of more ideas to come and left the workshop. It wasn¡¯t simply a half-hearted statement meant to placate him; she genuinely needed a bunch of stuff to increase her efficiency. They weren¡¯t just words meant to get her away from further interaction with the other God. Cross her heart.

    I really need to find another way to distract someone I want to stop talking to other than just agreeing to everything they say, she groaned. Now she was going to spend precious time coming up with a bunch of things for Technology to work on that he hadn¡¯t already invented.

    Forming her wings, she took off back into the air, heading for the experimental grounds.

    Time to trap herself a dwarf.

 Chapter 31

    Grendle always dreamed of being an Acquirer. All dwarves did; they¡¯d been raised by their paternal figures on tales of how everything precious the dwarven commune cherished was obtained through the blood and sweat of heroic adventurers. The Ruby Eye. The Emerald Obelisk. Legendary treasures that were enshrined within the deep subterranean halls of Dwarf City. If you could produce a jewel or some other valuable mineral on the level of those, your name would be carved into the bedrock beneath the trophies to be glorified for all eternity.

    Dwarves were a race that were¡­ vertically challenged, to say the least. It was out of the question for them to aspire to the skies with their stumpy appendages. But it was also their short stature that led their predecessors to consider instead the unknowns that lay beneath the earth; to dig and scrabble through the soil to discover what secrets were buried there.

    As soon as that first chunk of sparkling, brilliant gemstone was excavated, the sheen and glint that it produced after a round of careful polishing entranced all who beheld it. It was at that moment the dwarves knew that they would devote the rest of their lives to amassing these valuable objects. To chase that initial high once more with shinier and shinier baubles.

    But long before the evaluation at his adulthood ceremony Grendle had already known what they were going to say. He was the runt of his generation, after all; there was always one every few batches. Arms too frail to even heft up a pickaxe, legs too weak to support the expected lugging back of the spoils of spelunking. He didn¡¯t even get into his second choice. Warriors also generally needed to be physically fit, as you¡¯d expect.

    So he ended up here - the farming delegation.

    Or as they were mockingly called back in the living quarters: the reject pile. Farmers didn¡¯t need to do anything too intensive or demanding, it was mostly stuff like watering the lichen, feeding the rocktin pigs and keeping an eye out for the occasional downpour, which needed to be reported as soon as possible to prevent cave-ins. There was, of course, some level of risk being up on the surface for extended periods of time ¨C the planet had no neighbouring star to illuminate its surface, so visibility was poor and sandstorms were an inconvenience that swooped in every now and then to handicap productivity. But it was comparatively easier ¨C and safer ¨C than swinging a pickaxe or squeezing through narrow shafts while risking the celling crumbling to pieces over your head.

    It wasn¡¯t much consolation that the farmers would likely live longer lives than their miner counterparts, though. Just felt like a whole bunch of sour grapes; jealousy that stemmed from an understanding that the rejects could never become what they yearned for.

    ¡°The rocktins are probably starving by now, I should go scatter the feed.¡± Grendle absentmindedly muttered to himself as he got up from the rock bench. He¡¯d often come up here on the surface at night all by himself (sans sandstorm, of course) to mope about the lot in life he¡¯d been given, and day-dream about what could have been. Looking up into that tapestry of twinkling diamonds in the sky helped put things into perspective for him. So what if he was destined to be a farmer in this life? Dwarves were insignificant lifeforms in the face of the cosmic whole. He¡¯d be an Acquirer in his next life.

    Hopefully.

    Grendle tapped his lightstone lantern once with the small hammer that was tied to its handle to refuel the diminishing light it was giving off. Dwarves didn¡¯t need these tools; they could generally see in the dark better than most other mortals as they¡¯d evolved to scavenge for food under low visibility conditions. But light was very much appreciated in tasks that required more precise actions.

    It was a good thing, then, that lightstone deposits jutted out in abundance across the surface of the planet. When struck, the mineral would absorb the kinetic energy from the hit and convert it to radiant energy ¨C light.

    Grendle ambled over to the shed that housed the feed for the pigs. It wasn¡¯t too hard to compound the pellets that would be their meal. One part water and two parts mature lichen. Crush and mix to combine, then roll into balls the size of a fingertip. The task was simply¡­ time-consuming. He had to wave the lantern over the crops, looking to see which presented thickly, then only pluck the shoots that felt spongy to the touch. Immature lichen wouldn¡¯t provide the desired effects of pacifying the rocktin pigs. This particular nugget of wisdom was passed down from unfortunate prior attempts to domesticate the rocktins, as wild rocktins sprouted large, goring tusks and were immediately hostile to any creature they met.

    Not that the pigs missing one or two meals would immediately result in them regressing to their previous forms, but Grendle didn¡¯t want to risk it. The general consensus among the Warriors that occasionally scrapped with the wild version of rocktins was that you wouldn¡¯t survive the encounter without sustaining heavy wounds of your own. So he painstakingly sorted through the lichen fronds, picked out the spongiest of the bunch, and went to work smashing and rolling.

    And he arrived at his destination not a moment too soon; the pigs were already braying in irritation at their meal being absent from their pens. Grendle scooped out a handful of brown balls from the feed bucket and tossed it into each of the sties, watching to make sure that they were hoovering up the feed with their trunk-snouts.

    ¡°You¡¯re late, Grendle.¡± The disapproving voice came from Terrin, a Farmer acquaintance of his from the immediate generation before.

    ¡°Sorry, I was¡­ thinking about the Acquirer thing again. Won¡¯t happen next time.¡±

    Terrin tutted at that admission, sprinkling the lichen with spritzes of water as he walked down the line with a water bucket. ¡°Enough wishful thinking about far-flung fantasies like changing professions. You just aren¡¯t- no, we just aren¡¯t built for that. You should be thanking the gods that the Council hasn¡¯t exiled us all to the wilderness just yet. As you well know, this job could easily be done by any other dwarf! The logical thing would be to cut off the stragglers and reduce the already strained food supplies by a few mouths.¡±

    Grendle sighed, leaning against the wall of the rocktin pen. ¡°It was only a thought, Terrin. No need to grill me over something like that.¡±

    ¡°Well, you better not let one of those nosy Evaluators hear you. I can¡¯t even imagine what worse occupation than Farmer they could downgrade you to. Waste Shoveller? Cave Canary?¡±

    Grendle let his senior ramble on, tipping his head back and choosing instead to return to his hobby of gazing into the night sky. A cool breeze caressing his back as he watched the stars blink and twinkle. Maybe he could bribe an Evaluator with first pick of rocktin milk to let him learn Acquirer techniques in his spare time. If he could prove that he was trying his best, perhaps they¡¯d take pity on him and let him tag along on a mission or two.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Just as he was staring up into the sky, his eyes locked onto a streak of white that zipped across the black canvas. It was just for a second, but Grendle could have sworn it had landed just a few miles away. Streak of light, landing close-by?

    Could it be? The fabled Meteorite?

    He¡¯d pushed himself off the wall now, his pulse quickening. The dwarves had heard legends of the space rock before, but there were no known samples of the material in the dwarven halls which held their most valuable acquisitions. If he could successfully bring back a genuine meteorite piece, that could be his ticket out of the reject pile and into the coveted Acquirer group!

    ¡°Terrin, I think I just saw a meteorite land ¨C in that direction! I¡¯ll go grab a piece; if you¡¯ll cover for me, I¡¯ll get you one too.¡±

    ¡°A meteorite? Are you alright? I think all this Acquirer talk¡¯s fried your brain, my man.¡± Terrin chuckled.

    ¡°I¡¯ll just pop out real quick. I won¡¯t be long, maybe a couple of minutes.¡± Grendle took a couple of steps towards the meteorite crash site.

    But before he could break off into a sprint, his arm was grabbed by his senior, who was now decidedly a lot sterner than before. ¡°You¡¯re serious? If you¡¯re right, we¡¯ll inform an Acquirer team and they¡¯ll send out a search party as soon as they¡¯re available. But there¡¯s no way a Farmer can go out there by himself. Out there there¡¯s nothing to protect you. Our farm¡¯s two steps from the cave entrance; a scream or two¡¯ll send five Warriors rushing to our aid. But out there? All by yourself? You must be crazy. The wild rocktin¡¯ll rip you to shreds!¡±

    Grendle shrugged off the hand. He knew Terrin was just looking out for his well-being, but the older dwarf had already resigned himself to a simple life of monotonous farming. Grendle didn¡¯t want to end up like that.

    ¡°I¡¯m going.¡±

    With those two words, he turned and ran as fast as his short legs could carry him, heading straight for where he¡¯d seen the flash of light land. He ignored the panicked cries from Terrin, not stopping to even look back at the other dwarf. Grendle was as determined as he would ever be in his life. He¡¯d bring back a chunk of Meteorite, or die trying.

    ¡°Oof.¡± About seven minutes into his mad dash, the dwarf had stumbled on something, and was now laying sprawled out on the ground, abrasions adorning both stubby knees. Grendle brought his lightstone lantern to the thing he¡¯d tripped over and tapped the rock once to examine the obstacle. As dull illumination slowly emitted from the mineral, he realised that Terrin was completely, and absolutely right.

    For the rock that Grendle had just tripped over was in actuality a wild rocktin that had, up till that point, been fast asleep.

    With the kick that had been accidentally delivered to its back, it was now picking itself back up, snorting in annoyance at being rudely awoken. In the dim light Grendle could make out the fully developed tusks growing from the sides of its mouth, perfect for boring holes in a fragile, weak dwarf.

    It had now noticed the object of its anger, and the rocktin pawed at the ground with a purposeful hoof. Rearing up to attack.

    ¡°No. No! Get away!¡±

    But the beast didn¡¯t acquiesce to his pleas. It continued to scratch menacingly, building up momentum in preparation for the charge. Then it lowered its head, tusks at the ready. At this point, Grendle knew he was screwed. He¡¯d overstepped his boundaries; he should have just been content with his role as a simple farmer! Now he was going to die out here, stabbed to death by a wild rocktin.

    He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn¡¯t want to watch the moment of his demise unfold before his eyes; if he had to die, he wanted it to be a quick and sudden one. All he could hear now was the gradual increasing of tempo of the rocktin¡¯s hoofs, and the frenzied thumping of his own heart.

    Then he heard the pig charge; and his hands instinctually flew up to shield his chest. A futile act, of course; the tusks would simply burst through the weak bone and tissue and continue on into his body. However, when one was at death¡¯s door, all rationality would have long flown out the window. So he maintained the defensive pose, waiting for the dual points to run him through and end his life.

    But when nothing happened for an agonizingly long minute and counting, he realised that the pounding of hoofs against the hard rock ground had mysteriously vanished. Grendle slowly forced his eyes open to see what had happened. And what he saw in front of his eyes made less sense than what he could have ever imagined.

    The rocktin laid defeated at the feat of an individual, its head now being ventilated by a hole opened through the skull. However, that wasn''t the most surprising part. His saviour was a female; that much Grendle was sure of, but she was unlike any dwarven female he¡¯d ever seen before. She towered over him, her limbs strangely elongated and thin.

    And her attire! Strikingly white robes, unlike the tough rocktin leather garb that all dwarves sported.

    He continued to look on in awe at this strange individual, who was now crouching down to examine his body with great interest.

    Then she opened her mouth to speak.

    ¡°Uhng Glorn Gert Bar Pon Trint?¡±

    Grendle stared dumbly back at the female, whose face began to take on signs of confusion. She repeated the nonsensical line.

    ¡°Uhng Glorn Gert Bar Pon Trint?¡±

    Grendle didn¡¯t know what to respond to that. Was she¡­ trying to communicate?

    ¡°Um, what? I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Oh, for Gods¡¯ sake, I¡¯ll just update the vocabulary.¡±

    The female groaned, muttering a string of similarly strange, but more melodious words; completely unlike the weird noises she had addressed him with. She reached out with a slender palm, and laid it on his chest.

    Grendle witnessed something amazing that day; a living being that could make her body glow without the assistance of a lightstone. After a moment of contact, she broke away and opened her mouth once more.

    ¡°There. Do you understand me now?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Oh! Yes, yes I do! Thank you for saving my life, miss.¡± Apparently what the stranger had just done now allowed her to speak fluently in the dwarvish tongue.

    ¡°Great.¡± The lady smiled thinly at him. ¡°Then I¡¯ll repeat my offer.¡±

    ¡°Would you like to transcend your useless body, and become something more?¡±

 Chapter 32

    ¡°I told you they weren¡¯t talking like that anymore! What idiot thinks that language doesn¡¯t evolve and grow over time? Dumbass!¡± Stories crowed as he hovered over Order.

    It was rather amusing watching the mortal being stare at her bewilderedly like she¡¯d just announced that she was sleeping with his father. That amusement was further enhanced by the fact that the self-proclaimed God of Knowledge was actively humiliating herself with a series of meaningless vocalisations that forced her face into wacky contortions, ultimately culminating in her admitting defeat by resorting to activating her ability again.

    ¡°Who¡¯s wasting divine energy now? Moron!¡±

    ¡°Quiet.¡± Order hissed angrily through gritted teeth. The taunting from that annoying apparition didn¡¯t much help her with this next step of persuading the mortal to agree to the terms of the experiment, and her ego was bruised enough already without him heaping on more insults to her intelligence.

    ¡°How about it?¡±

    Grendle didn¡¯t know what to say. The stranger proved herself to be at least on par with the strongest of the Warriors. He could hardly count on one hand the number of dwarven elite who could down a wild rocktin alone and with such speed. But the offer seemed fishy in and of itself; wouldn¡¯t you be cautious of some weirdo coming up to you with offers of betterment, while hiding their true intentions?

    ¡°What do you mean by that, exactly? Transcend my body?¡± he replied, curiously. Fortunately for Order, she¡¯d unknowingly hit the proverbial nail on the head with Grendle; a proposition to enhance one¡¯s constitution would have gone unheard if it was extended to any other Farmer that she might have met. Maybe even turned down with a scoff, followed by the dwarf exiting stage left.

    But time had yet to smother the dream that this particular dwarf had of becoming an Acquirer, like it did to so many other Farmers before him. And if the chance to get out of the reject pile was presenting itself to him unasked as it did at this very moment, it was only natural to inquire on the specifics, no?

    ¡°My associate believes that I should¡­ elaborate on my proposal further. And of course, clarify the nature of what I will be providing you. Informed consent.¡± The lady cleared her throat. ¡°Firstly, you may address me as the God of Order and Knowledge. I am a member of a pantheon of deities that govern every aspect of the world that you know.¡±

    Ok, so this lady was a mental case. Grendle kicked himself for not seeing the signs. Why else would there be a stranger all the way out here, where danger abounded? She was probably a descendant of past dwarven exiles that had simply gone mad, having to fight beast after beast to survive, and eventually concocting a narrative in a bid to reconcile her deformities with the hostile climate she was born into, that she had to be a higher tier being if no creature that she¡¯d encountered could best her.

    But.

    There was always the possibility that she wasn¡¯t lying. There was that glowy thing, with her hands, wasn¡¯t there? It could perhaps be explained away as a parlor trick; she could have concealed a lightstone in the palm of her hand, and scratched it with a fingernail while she was drawing attention away with her show of grunting.

    On the off chance that she was telling the truth, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to listen a little further to what she was proposing.

    Just in case.

    He was as safe as he was going to be anyways, sitting here next to a skilled warrior that could instantly lay flat a deadly beast like a wild rocktin.

    ¡°Oh¡­ kay¡­ so, Miss God-of-Order-and-Knowledge. How exactly are you going to carry out this, ¡°transcending¡±? Do I need to drink something? Or do that weird chanting that you did just now?¡±

    ¡°No, no chanting or imbibements. And that was ancient Dwarvish - I mistakenly assumed that your people would be fluent in this still. But that¡¯s not what¡¯s important here. There is a chance, a not insignificant one, that the effects of the process may cause some¡­ unexpected alterations to your personage.¡±

    Grendle arched an eyebrow. ¡°Unexpected¡­ how?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d rather not be telling you this; it would be better to conceal this information until after we¡¯ve already completed the infusion.¡± Order bit her lip as she considered hiding the results of their previous test anyways. The new rules that Stories had insisted upon would demolish any chances that the test would go through if every subject needed to be told what would happen.

    ¡°But¡­ informed consent is informed consent. Our¡­ previous experiment subject had to be put down because they mutated into a beast that rampaged and eventually caused the collapse of their civilisation. It¡¯s also the reason why we¡¯ve added sturdier restraints to our testing procedure.¡± Order produced a silver tube from behind her back, and flicked it outwards, allowing the contraption to unfold and collapse into a metal cage. ¡°But¡­ the point I¡¯m trying to make is: if the procedure fails in its intended purpose, if the process doesn¡¯t produce the desired effects, we may have to¡­ terminate. Your life, specifically. To prevent an outbreak of the infection like before.¡±

    Grendle¡¯s face paled. ¡°Infection? The thing you¡¯re planning to do to me, that thing that can turn people into mindless beasts can spread? Why would anyone agree to that?¡±

    That¡¯s right, Stories, Order grumbled to herself. Why would any mortal think that was an acceptable cost of improvement? She watched impatiently as the dwarf pondered the offer. He was bound to say no; this was why she wanted to negotiate with some dwarven leader for a prisoner of some sort, someone that was already on death row. Someone who dwarven society wouldn¡¯t blink an eye if they had to murder.

    But the next words that she heard come from the mouth of the dwarf surprised her.

    ¡°Ok. If there¡¯s a chance that I¡¯ll become stronger¡­ then fine.¡±

    ¡°Really? You did hear the part where I¡¯ll be ending your life if you turn into some monstrous creature, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Grendle nodded. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to become an Acquirer. If this experiment of hers could give that to him, he¡¯d be willing to risk his life for it. Better to burn bright for an instant, than small and unnoticed.

    ¡°Because if you refused, I would have prepared a small fortune in precious stones for your loved ones. To sweeten the pot, so to speak.¡± Order jiggled a pouch by her waist, which clattered with what sounded like several heavy pebbles clacking against each other.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Grendle gulped.

    ¡°I mean¡­ if you¡¯re offering, I¡¯m not about to turn down jewels.¡± He stretched out a hand and smiled, embarrassedly. Order plucked the pouch from her belt and handed it over. It wasn¡¯t any skin off her back; it wasn¡¯t like Gods had an economy that valued these. She¡¯d find something to replace the rocks she¡¯d swiped from Greed later.

    Already the dwarf could feel from the heft of the pouch that the stones were dense; much heavier than any gem he¡¯d ever been fortunate enough to hold. But he knew better than to get his hopes up. They could have been uncut jewels, for all he knew. The weight was probably supplemented by the worthless rock the gems themselves were embedded in. With a shaky finger, he pulled open the drawstrings of the pouch - and was greeted with an otherworldly sight. Flawlessly cut jewels, each the size of a rocktin feed pellet, but the stones themselves were clear, all the way through. No imperfections. Just clear, crystalline perfection.

    They certainly weren¡¯t as big as the Ruby Eye, but the amount alone was equivalent to several hauls of Acquirer teams over the period of months.

    ¡°¡­ you¡¯re certain there¡¯s a possibility that I¡¯ll get stronger? Strong enough to go spelunking?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan, yes. If the infusion confers onto you increased strength and vitality as I¡¯ve calculated, then there won¡¯t be an issue with you returning to your colony and passing on the alteration. On the other hand, if it goes awry¡­ you understand what that means, right?¡±

    He stared at the female, alternating occasionally to look at the pouch weighing down his palm. This God of Order and Knowledge already proved that she could do the impossible. The dead rocktin corpse at their feet, and the logic-defying gems he was holding was testament to that. If she was telling the truth about that, why would she lie about her offer?

    Grendle steeled his nerves as he proceeded to make the only decision in his life that he truly believed in.

    ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡±

    ==============================================

    The so-called infusion didn¡¯t take as long as Grendle had expected. In fact, it went by in a blink of an eye. He was expecting some magical machine that¡¯d strip his skin off entirely and replace it with a new coat of protein and fat, but all the experiment entailed was him standing there and letting Adaptability do his thing. Sure, he was a little startled at the sight of two disembodied palms showing up on his chest, but other than that, it was nothing he couldn¡¯t handle. An slightly unpleasant warmth that covered his body for the five minutes the process took. Akin to the humidity underground after a light drizzling.

    ¡°So,¡± Grendle said, obediently walking into the cage and latching it shut. ¡°How long till we¡¯ll know?¡±

    ¡°Seven hours. Which, of course, gives us plenty of time to go into the intricacies of dwarven society.¡± Order removed her notebook from its strap and flipped to an empty page. ¡°Let¡¯s start with sustenance. Do your people still indulge in cannibalism? Because that was all the rage when I was last here.¡±

    ¡°Damned Order,¡± Stories whined as he inspected a chunk of lightstone a few metres away from the testing grounds. He glanced over at the cage, watching as Order continued to record down intently the dwarven minutiae that Grendle was telling her. She¡¯d made him promise not to wander off too far, so that he could step in if she needed another pair of hands to handle the resultant creature. ¡°So she gets to do what she wants, but I can¡¯t go exploring the dwarven catacombs? The injustice! Right, Adaptabili-¡° Stories looked around, but his junior was gone.

    Finally, he spotted the coward a distance away, half-phased into the sand with only the top half of his head poking through.

    ¡°Loosen up, dude. I don¡¯t know who those people you think are after you are, but surely they won¡¯t risk a confrontation with two other Gods, right?¡± The mummified head shook from side to side.

    ¡°¡­you don¡¯t know what they¡¯re capable of. For all you know they¡¯re right here, watching for when I finally drop my guard.¡±

    Stories sighed. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t really care what you think. I personally feel that you¡¯re just being over-dramatic; nobody¡¯s coming after you! But I¡¯m only talking to you because there¡¯s like, six and a half hours more to kill. So let¡¯s play a game: I¡¯ll say a random word, and whatever letter it ends with, you continue on with another word. Ready? Rock.¡±

    The mummy didn¡¯t reply. Welp, Stories thought to himself. Can¡¯t say I didn¡¯t try. Maybe there¡¯s something a little more interesting on this rock of a planet other than glowy stones and piggies. But as he turned to leave, a faint sound caught his attention.

    ¡°¡­kraken.¡±

    It was soft, but unmistakeable ¨C the introvert had spoken. Stories smiled. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. All he needed was to interact more with others and maybe with time he¡¯d put the whole ¡°pursuers¡± nonsense behind him.

    ¡°Alrighty then¡­ Nettle.¡±

    In this way, the three Gods passed the time, bantering and scribbling down notes, until it was finally time.

    Time for the results of the experiment to be revealed.

    ¡°Seven hours on the dot. Do you feel anything different?¡± Order queried the dwarf, eyeing him over best she could as he huddled up in the cage.

    ¡°Nope, nothing¡¯s changed. Are you sure your friend did the right thing?¡± Grendle flexed his arm tentatively. Yeah, he didn¡¯t feel stronger like she¡¯d promised; nor did he think that his other senses were being enhanced.

    Order frowned, leaning forward and studying the grey complexion of the mortal before her. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense¡­ the infusion should-¡°

    She stopped abruptly mid-sentence. Grendle took it to mean that she¡¯d finally spotted the beginnings of the improvements that were made.

    ¡°What? Is something happening? Tell me what. Is it a good thing?¡±

    Order wordlessly pointed to his shoulder.

    The dwarf looked over to find that the arm had fallen off - and was now disintegrating into a puddle of thick, dark-green liquid at his feet. All that was left of his right arm was a gooey stump that was likely still in the process of following the rest of the arm to its new home on the cage floor.

    Grendle turned to look at Order as he clutched the stump with his left hand. With a face filled with anxiety, he uttered the last word he would ever say with his lips.

    ¡°Help.¡±

    Then the remaining bulk of the dwarf melted into the green sludge all at once.

 Chapter 33.

    ¡°I mean, that saves us the effort of having to kill the poor thing, I suppose.¡± Stories examined the pool of gelatinous liquid that was now wobbling on the metal floor of the cage, a few stray rivulets oozing through the gaps.

    ¡°So. What¡¯s your excuse this time, miss know-it-all? That¡¯s oh-for-three, now.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and by the way - your bars are useless if there¡¯s a chance that your subjects melt into a sludge. You could get Technology to replace the walls with some see-through metal alloy. Just a thought.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Order buried her head in her hands. Adaptability was a good play. The ability he possessed was a perfect fit - in her mind, at least - for their purposes. The wuss hadn¡¯t ever tried it out before (he believed it would be like announcing his presence to those after his life), but Life did confirm it with him at his inception. The ability to boost a mortal¡¯s evolution speed ¨C where the chains of time could be momentarily unshackled to allow the lifeform to access an accelerated rate of adaptability. Metaphorically speaking, that is ¨C there wasn¡¯t any manipulation of time during the process. The mortal being simply leapfrogged over millennia of trial-and-error to get to a state which was optimal for thriving in their current climate.

    Her idea, therefore, was that if that ability could be transmitted over groups of mortals at a time using the methodology that Stories had discovered, the problem would be solved: all of those pesky short-lived would be given the tools they needed to overcome the obstacles in their path.

    Live on a planet that has no water? You¡¯d adapt to not require it. Your planet is filled with predators that surpass you in both cunning and strength? You¡¯d be able to match them and fend them off. Rainfall that expressed itself as deadly spears of acid? Hard carapace of basic composition that nullifies the killer droplets.

    So why was it that the dwarf had exploded? Or to be more specific, why had he liquefied? Could the composition of the fluid hold an explanation to what happened? She¡¯d make a note to collect a sample before they left.

    For now, all Order wanted to do was scream into her hands until she went hoarse.

    ¡°¡­is that puddle of goo following you?¡± Order jolted upwards at the moron¡¯s words. What?

    She snapped to the cage. Sure enough, the slime that had been a puddle just a moment prior was now standing up. In so far as a blob could stand, anyways. Like a wave of swamp-green that was suspended in mid-air.

    Order took five steps to the left. The suspension shifted, like it was moving its body to keep in line with her.

    ¡°Is it alive?¡± Adaptability spoke out in wonder. ¡°That¡¯s kinda cool, actually.¡±

    ¡°Dwarf? Can you hear me? Do you understand what I¡¯m saying?¡±

    The blob wobbled.

    Now, was that a yes, or a no? It could be a simple unconscious reaction, a spasm by a long-dead dwarf, moving on instinct in its new form. Order placed a piece of lightstone in front of her, and two to the side.

    ¡°One for yes, two for no. Understood?¡±

    The slime slithered out of the cage, placing itself squarely in front of the single lightstone. Ok, she thought. Rationality seems intact. He isn¡¯t strangling us, in any case.

    He should want to; but he isn¡¯t.

    ¡°I want to try a few things out. Can you absorb that fragment of lightstone into your body?¡±

    The liquid dwarf obliged, engulfing the shard into itself. She watched closely, looking for signs that the mineral was being broken down. After about a minute of observation, it was clear that nothing was going to happen.

    ¡°Thank you. Please eject it, and place it back at its original position.¡±

    The piece of lightstone was carefully pulled out with a gelatinous tentacle and lowered to the ground, fully intact. With that, Order now had enough preliminary data to form a general conclusion about what had happened.

    ¡°It seems that my notes on the God of Adaptability needs to be¡­ updated. His ability, which has otherwise never been formally used before in another setting, was to allow a mortal to adapt to its surroundings. Accelerated evolution to a point where your body can survive anything.¡±

    The slime listened attentively.

    ¡°What I failed to consider, is that in some cases, an evolution looks more like a regression. A liquid body fulfils the criteria just as completely as a solid one; you can slip through small cracks ¨C meaning that you¡¯ll never be trapped in a situation where you¡¯d starve to death. Stabbing, slashing or blunt attacks won¡¯t cause you any pain, and the weapons would just harmlessly pass through you. You are able to retain your consciousness, yet you don¡¯t have a visible cerebrum. I assume that you could suffocate any threats aiming for your life. And you are able to pick up rocks and store them within your body. I daresay you¡¯ve been granted a constitution that specialises you for spelunking - exactly as you desired.¡±

    The blob jiggled happily.

    Order, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t as elated as the slime dwarf.

    ¡°Which is good for you, but is otherwise useless for us. An absolute failure.¡±

    ¡°What d¡¯ya mean? It understands what you¡¯re saying, it¡¯s nigh unkillable, it probably doesn¡¯t even need to consume food to survive; I think the results speak for themselves! Full marks!¡±

    ¡°God of Stories and Creativity; please cease your jesting. It can¡¯t speak. It doesn¡¯t look like anything but a suspension of liquid. Beauty, while seemingly irrelevant to the lifespan of a mortal, is what separates a precious gem, from a worthless rock. This? This result is a worthless rock. It is not what the God of Life and Creation is aiming for.¡±

    And that was all that needed to be said.

    ==========================================

    ¡°Grendle? He¡¯s dead, probably. Thought he saw some meteorite land somewhere outside the farming area, and ran off before I could stop him. An Acquirer team went off in the direction he was running off in to confirm the meteorite sighting, but¡­ nothing. Couldn¡¯t even find his bones. The wild rocktin are probably rejoicing at the unexpected feast this time of year.¡± Terrin tore off a piece of rocktin and shovelled it into his mouth.

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    Grendle¡¯s replacement had been curious about what had happened to his predecessor, and the older dwarf didn¡¯t see anything wrong with telling the young¡¯un about the cautionary tale of Grendle the Fool over lunch.

    ¡°But I hear that the Evaluators think he¡¯s still out there! There haven¡¯t been surface Acquirers for weeks since his disappearance, but every three days, at the same time, a fist sized jewel, polished to a mirror shine, was left just next to the rocktin pens!¡± The junior piped up, brimming with childish glee.

    Terrin frowned. The boy obviously thought that it was a viable strategy to forsake your people and go subsist off the sparse resources in the wilderness.

    Best to nip this in the bud - or he¡¯d soon have another unfortunate death on his hands.

    ¡°Bah! That¡¯s just a myth. Or more likely, a prank by one of the younger Acquirers. A perfectly polished gem, just lying out in the open like that? He¡¯s a Farmer, not a Polisher or a Refiner! Besides, there¡¯s no way he could still be alive; what would he eat? Where would he sleep? Shut up and eat your rocktin.¡±

    The junior, deflated, returned to his lunch, playing with the hunk of meat with a wooden fork. Terrin chewed his mouthful as well, feeling the juices seep into his cheeks. He couldn¡¯t help but think about the rumour now that his understudy had brought it up.

    Terrin didn¡¯t hate Grendle; sure, he had his head in the clouds most of the time, but he was¡­ refreshing in his pursuit of his dreams. Untainted by resignation, even after being placed in the loser team. It was comforting to imagine the boy surviving somewhere out there, taming the wild rocktin and chewing on fronds of lichen. But one had to face facts eventually.

    He was definitely dead.

    Right?

    ==========================================

    Grendle the Slime was living the dream.

    His new body was perfect for cave-diving. He¡¯d learnt that if he focused hard enough on an object he was smothering, the composition of his body would miraculously shift to melt through what he wished to break down. Grendle didn¡¯t need a pickaxe to create a tunnel; he was the pickaxe. On top of that, he¡¯d noticed after a day or two that this action of excavation through digestion was literally, actually digestion; his body was somehow extracting nutrients from the microscopic bits of minerals that were left behind, converting it to energy, solving any food concerns he might have had.

    He didn¡¯t need to breathe, and could effortlessly pass through pockets of natural gas that would have suffocated any other Acquirer in his shoes. Best of all, he was a one-man gem collecting and processing machine! Any jewel deposit could be dislodged from its position with the melting capabilities of his slime body, and the remaining hunks of stone still clinging to his prize would dissolve off with a short soaking in his core. All it took was his paltry dwarven existence in exchange ¨C a small price to pay for what he now was.

    Sure, he could never come into contact with another dwarf as long as he lived (which from the God¡¯s estimates were somewhere around five times the average dwarven lifespan); not unless he wanted to reduce his former people to masses of wobbling liquid like he now was. The God of Order and Knowledge was thorough enough with her warnings. After they¡¯d tried to incinerate him, of course. Grendle saw it more as a compromise rather than the benevolence of a God, since his slime form could split and slither away into miniscule gaps in the ground as uncountable droplets of fluid, which all held a copy of his consciousness.

    However, the self-imposed isolation wasn¡¯t a big deal to him ¨C he was content with leaving his spoils where the dwarves could find them. It wasn¡¯t like a Farmer-turned-Acquirer would have been noticed by other dwarves anyways ¨C he¡¯d soon fade into the background as just another face. But as a mysterious jewel contributor, on the other hand, he¡¯d live on forever in the minds of those that passed on the rumour of his existence.

    Grendle was finally an Acquirer; just as he wanted.

    ==========================================

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s three down, fifty thousand Gods to go. Who¡¯s next, boss?¡±

    The two were now back at Order¡¯s log cabin, deciding on the next course of action after the spectacular failure of Order¡¯s third attempt. She didn¡¯t quite feel like going down all the way to the Library; it now stood as a reminder that for all her supposed intellectual trappings, her selections were all complete disappointments.

    ¡°No one.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Whaddaya mean, no one? You said that this whole thing is a lengthy process of trial and error, right? Stop sulking, get back on the saddle, and go pick out a few more candidates!¡±

    Order glared at the lesser God, who was understandably perplexed by her sudden change in demeanour. As if she didn¡¯t know that. As if she didn¡¯t understand that there were bound to be Gods that wouldn¡¯t match the criteria.

    ¡°It means that I¡¯m done. Let me explain this in a way that would make sense to you. Take the problem that we¡¯re currently attempting to answer, as an empty well. This hypothetical well requires around forty thousand bucketfuls to fill to its brim. With the God of Life and Creation¡¯s method as it stands, it attempts to fill it ¨C by himself, at that ¨C with a teaspoon a day. Nonetheless, it isn¡¯t out of the question to complete the task with his methods. But at the rate he¡¯s going - assuming the water within doesn¡¯t evaporate while he¡¯s preparing the next teaspoon ¨C it would take an absurdly long period of time to achieve his goal. My method, on the other hand, substitutes the teaspoon for a cup.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you see? They¡¯re equally futile.¡± Order got up from her seat, letting the chair scrape and screech unpleasantly against the wooden ground, and trudged towards the door.

    ¡°I¡¯m throwing in the towel. The problem can¡¯t be solved. Let¡¯s go tell the God of Life and Creation that we¡¯re giving up.¡±

 Chapter 34

    Order¡¯s hand hovered over the gates of the Cube, mid-knock. She was¡­ formulating¡­ the exact words to say to Life. She certainly wasn¡¯t hesitant to admit her defeat to her father. (Well, there was that too, of course.)

    Something as monumental as acknowledging that a problem she had so confidently agreed to handle needed to be treated with the gravitas it deserved. It would be her first time admitting that she was in over her head, after all. Should she begin with the conclusion? That is - should she start off by saying that she was giving up right away? It would save a lot of time, for one. Get all the teasing out of the way from the get go. No, she should preface the message of surrender with the reasons why she was terminating all further research. The data obtained, the affected parties and such. It would soften the blow if the factors were laid out in full before she conceded defeat.

    And in this manner of hemming and hawing, she¡¯d held the same position for the past five minutes now - and Stories was getting a tad bit impatient.

    ¡°Dude, if you¡¯re going to do it anyway, then just rip the bandaid off. It¡¯ll hurt less that way. Look, I¡¯ll even do it for you.¡±

    He materialised a fist and pounded on the gate thrice, the metal clanging as it received the strikes. Order glowered at him silently.

    Couldn¡¯t he see she was building up to it?

    Stories shrugged in response.

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    As expected, Death¡¯s figure soon emerged from the darkness to let them in. Order bowed respectfully as he came to the gate. There was nothing to it, she¡¯d just have to go with the second speech combination. In any case, it¡¯d be impossible to perfect the ideal set of words that¡¯d express her deep regrets without taking copious amounts of additional time to analyse the data on the recipient¡¯s behavioural patterns when they received similar news from others, and she was already intending to leave this horrid chapter of her life behind her as quickly as possible; not wallow in self-pity and examine all the other possibilities over and over again like an obsessed fool.

    She had better things to do than that ¨C like updating the earliest records in her Library to take into account the expected changes that had occurred over time, something that she¡¯d been helpfully reminded of over the past few weeks of testing.

    ¡°My greetings, God of Death and Taxes. We are here today to-¡°

    ¡°Woah! What the heck happened to you, my man? You look like someone tossed you into a blender and hit start.¡±

    Order raised her head to confirm what Stories had exclaimed in surprise. Sure enough, the once smartly-dressed God of Death and Taxes looked like he had been wrung out. His suit was dishevelled and torn in several spots, pale, white skin peeking through. His signature mask was smeared across with a suspicious blue substance, and his cloak was missing a few patches of feathers.

    Death pulled his mask aside, revealing a tired face that had obviously been sapped of energy.

    ¡°Hello, Order. Hello, Stories. Come in.¡± Death said wearily, opening the gate. ¡°Life¡¯s in the back ¨C as usual. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have to get back to the nasty business of exterminating a few squid zombies that just aren¡¯t polite enough to stay dead.¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Order said. ¡°They aren¡¯t staying... dead?¡±

    ¡°I can show you, if you want. The portal¡¯s in my room.¡± Death motioned for the two to follow as he dragged his feet back into the interior of the Cube. The issue seems a little more serious than he¡¯s letting on if it¡¯s taking such a mental toll on him, Order thought. I¡¯ve never seen him like this before. Not even when he was racking his brains over how to tell Life that his favourite colony of mortals had been wiped out by a famine and were now waiting to enter the Netherworld Gates.

    Perhaps¡­ there was still a chance?

    Stories grabbed onto Order¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°What¡¯s up with that? You still working the problem? Didn¡¯t you say you were done?¡± he whispered to her. ¡°Done means done; this? Isn¡¯t done.¡±

    ¡°This¡­ seems promising. It won¡¯t matter if we take an hour or two for a small detour, will it? The end result won¡¯t change.¡± she whispered back, going after Death as he entered his room.

    The truth was that she knew that the problem that plagued Life was solvable ¨C she¡¯d latched onto what Stories had discovered only because she wanted a crack at it. The failures she¡¯d experienced thus far had only forced her to face the fact that maybe she wasn¡¯t suited to unravelling the intricacies of the mystery. That she should instead leave it to one of the other countless lesser Gods that Life was producing daily. Eventually, on a long enough time scale, one of them would stumble onto the right answer or be compatible with the theory that had been created.

    But if a new clue was literally going to be presented to her on a silver platter like this¡­

    Well, it would be bad manners to refuse, wouldn¡¯t it?

    ¡°Here we are,¡± Death pointed to a shimmering tear in space-time. ¡°The bane of my existence for the past few months, now. The Unkillable Swarm. Or so I¡¯ve dubbed them, anyways. It¡¯s nothing as grand as that. Though they are unkillable.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a dead squid.¡± Stories said. The corpse shown in the picture reflected in the portal didn¡¯t seem to be moving or anything. It wasn¡¯t like its tentacles were dragging the rest of the squid carcass along the asphalt ground while its cadaver remained motionless ¨C the whole body was just laying there, leaking bright blue liquid from its eyes.

    It was, for all intents and purposes, undoubtedly dead. Probably due to blood loss, judging by the pool of blue it was lying in.

    ¡°Give me a moment here,¡± Death raised both his arms, grasping on to an invisible something. ¡°Let me refocus on what I¡¯m talking about.¡± He swiped sharply to the left, and the displayed image within the confines of the portal became a blur as the portal panned over to another part of the world it connected to.

    ¡°Ah. Here we are.¡± He pulled back his arms as the picture came back into focus, this time showing a squid humanoid, fully clad in military gear, head to toe in combat-ready armor. The squid clutched onto a bulbous rifle and was squeezing the trigger rapidly, the muzzle firing black ink pellets at his target ¨C a lumbering squid-person that was strangely enough, emitting a green glow.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Ink? Really? What do these squids think kills other squids like them - bodily fluids?¡± Stories scoffed. ¡°I think I¡¯ve discovered your so-called problem, Death. They aren¡¯t dying because they aren¡¯t in any danger.¡±

    ¡°Look, if the problem was that this was just a bit of moist fun and their race is just really into drenching each other with ink, I¡¯d have let them be and closed the portal ages ago. No, I¡¯ve inquired into the effectiveness of the weaponry before on one of my many trips to the handful of survivors still making a stand. It¡¯s a nerve-based chemical weapon that works by infiltrating the body through the pores of the skin and quickly works to kill off any cells it interacts with. Which is why we should be a little more concerned that that¡­ abomination¡­ has taken over fifty shots directly to its face and is still moving. Can¡¯t kill what¡¯s already dead.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Stories watched as the zombie tanked another round of shots and continued its relentless, unceasing approach towards the increasingly panicked soldier. ¡°Oof, there he goes.¡± The squid soldier was now screaming in agony as the glowing carcass took a hefty bite from his right shoulder. Within moments, the loud cries trailed off, and the zombie ambled off, now disinterested in what he had once chased after. If the squid soldier had joined the ranks of the deceased, then it would have been a rather expedient demise, Stories mused. Right up Death¡¯s alley, ironically enough.

    ¡°That¡¯s the next problem. Watch.¡± For an uncomfortably long minute or so, the three Gods looked at the deceased soldier. And just as Stories was about to chime in with a quip about how staring at a corpse wasn¡¯t going to make it magically not-dead, the body rose to its feet, its eyes unfocused and staring into the distance, arms limp by its sides. The new convert proceeded to follow in the first zombie¡¯s footsteps, in search of another of its kind to infect.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m dealing with.¡± Death groaned. ¡°An undead horde intent on spreading its contagion to the entire planet. Maybe the entire star system, if the virus ever evolves to survive in the inhospitable vacuum of space. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I-¡±

    ¡°Take us with you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, WHAT?! Hold on there a moment, Death. The two of us gotta go have a little chat right in this corner.¡± Stories flashed a quick grin at the elder God, then yanked Order aside.

    ¡°Ok, first you wanted to go tell Life that you were done running your little experiments. That, I¡¯m A-OK with. No arguments from me here. Next, you had the brilliant idea to have a little look-see about what Death was up to lately. Again, perfectly understandable ¨C you have a boring life by most people¡¯s standards. But,¡± He made sure to stress his next words. ¡°what makes you think that I¡¯d want to go strolling about IN A GODDAMNED ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?!¡±

    ¡°We haven¡¯t told the God of Life and Creation anything as of yet - therefore, the experiment¡¯s still going. And as the supervisor of this experiment, you¡¯re obligated to be present when I uncover the reason behind these fascinating creatures.¡± Order replied coolly. ¡°Besides, I think this might be it.¡±

    ¡°It? What, like, it the solution? What in God¡¯s name drove you to that conclusion? All I can see are a couple of meat puppets, being driven by some sort of disease or virus controlling their every movement. There¡¯s nothing here. Let¡¯s just go and tell Life what you came here to say, then I can go back to my blissfully peaceful life, and you can return to your bland book-ordering. Or whatever dull activities you count as a hobby.¡±

    Order felt that he wasn¡¯t quite getting her point across to the idiot, so she elaborated further, making sure to speak a little more slowly this time. So he could follow along. ¡°You remember that our trials were meant to find a God that could extend the lifespans of mortals, correct?¡± Stories nodded cautiously. This had all the makings of one of her signature leading questions. Meaning that he¡¯d soon be ensnared in a devious trap of words and trickery if he didn¡¯t tread carefully.

    ¡°Good. Then - what if we flipped the question?¡±

    ¡°Flipped? Flipped how?¡±

    ¡°What if we didn¡¯t have to extend any mortals¡¯ lifespans; what if we just prevented their death? The desired result is to allow their existences to continue on for longer, right? If we can isolate the factor of these creatures¡¯ unnatural locomotion despite their readily apparent demise¡­¡±

    Stories swallowed nervously. She was¡­ making an unfortunate amount of sense to him at the moment. He wanted so desperately to point out that if Gods couldn¡¯t solve the problem, then what hope would a mortal engineered creation have of doing just that?

    Then again¡­ no other God that he¡¯d met thus far had come even remotely close to reanimating the dead. He¡¯d seen revivals from near death, and transmutations into grotesque creatures that could likely live for a long time. Not a defiance of the natural laws of life and death like what was being presented here. The possibility that these particular sea creatures had done the unthinkable, while slim, was still there.

    He looked apprehensively at her.

    ¡°And you promise we¡¯ll only stay up until you figure out what you need for the solution? Not a moment longer?¡±

    She mimed a cross over her heart.

    ¡°Promise.¡±

    Stories turned slowly to the waiting God of Death and Taxes, gulping once more as he mustered up the guts to speak. It would be hard to blame him in this particular scenario; even he couldn¡¯t believe he was about to say the words which would actualise their trip into the squids¡¯ world. He was a drama and romance guy, damn it! The horror genre was squarely out of his purview!

    But¡­ if Order said she was on the cusp of epiphany¡­

    He had a moral obligation to let her try.

    If not to solve the problem once and for all, then to lay rest any lingering regrets she might still have about her spectacular failures. For all her flaws, Stories knew that she was at least attempting to help the mortals. In a messed-up, unfeeling way. And that needed to be cheered on.

    Even if it meant that he was going to have to agree to something extremely repulsive and vile like accompanying her into a hellscape.

    ¡°Alright, Death, I¡¯m ready. Take us to zombie squid land.¡±

 Chapter 35

    ¡°nopenopenope- I¡¯ve changed my mind Death, send me back. SEND ME BACK!¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re afraid of the contagion, rest assured; we can¡¯t be influenced by it. For one, the incisors of the turned squids can¡¯t even break our skin. Even if by some miracle you were to be injected with the virus, it¡¯d be harmlessly purified through contact with the divine energy that circulates through our systems. Perfectly safe.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not the fear of getting turned, my man; it¡¯s the atmosphere of it all! Look!¡± Stories frantically gestured at their surroundings.

    Plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Heaps of broken down vehicles abandoned at corners, some parked end to end to form a makeshift barricade. Every window in every building as far as the eye could see had been shattered, the shards of glass left untouched just a small distance in front of them. There were patches of black ink still painted across portions of the concrete sidewalk from previous firefights by some valiant military squad that had either perished by now, or were forced to retreat after their defences were overcome by the undead threat.

    But most of all was the silence. It was the dissonance between the two; the sight of a heavily industrialised society, packed to the brim with technologically advanced creations like skyscrapers or asphalt paved roads ¨C mixed with an utter, striking quiet.

    Plus, it was currently around mid-day, with the planet¡¯s sun hanging high in the sky. You would expect the bustle of office workers scuttling about and rushing towards their destination, perhaps the sound of construction work as contractors worked to improve or repair parts of the city. Maybe a roadside food stall calling out for people to browse their wares. The cries of children frolicking about, chasing each other while they pranced about in the park, watched on by their smiling parents.

    Nothing.

    ¡°You guys don¡¯t think this is, I dunno, eerie?¡± Stories pleadingly asked the other two Gods. Surely they were at least a little wigged out?

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    Well, yeah, Death had the benefit of continued exposure to this setting; he was bound to have developed a desensitisation to it by now. Order, on the other hand, would-

    ¡°You¡¯re overreacting as usual, moron. Let us go find one of these zombies to examine.¡±

    Outnumbered two-to-one, Stories groaned, then jogged back over to join them. Safer in numbers, he thought. You know, I bet the reason why they¡¯re not scared of this obviously terrifying situation is because they¡¯re used to being solid all the time. If they¡¯d suddenly turned intangible I bet they¡¯d freak out too.

    Apparently the squid¡¯s planet lay outside the Dimensional Wall, since Stories was currently fully tangible; which meant that he experienced every sensation in greater degrees than if he was still in his ghostly form. In a different context, preferably one that wasn¡¯t a world ravaged by killer undead, he¡¯d have appreciated the rare chance to take in the sights. It was, after all, a modern world crafted by squids that had somehow went down a different evolutionary route than their counterparts on other planets. He would have been wondering about the logistics of it all; did they have to periodically mist the air with moisture for their skin? Were any of their pre-humanoid skills still present, like their ability to propel themselves through bodies of water with their fins?

    But unfortunately, there was nothing he could to do to change the reason that they were here. So Stories clung to Death¡¯s arm, trying his best not to focus on the destruction around him as the three took a walk down the middle of the main road, keeping an eye out for any infected they could drag into a corner to pick apart.

    ¡°There,¡± Order pointed to a half-shuttered shop where a figure was hunched over, seemingly bending over to pick up something, yet not moving their arms to do so. From an examination of the situation, it was likely that it had been turned within the store, but couldn¡¯t exit the premises as the shutters blocked the top half of its body. To any rational person, all they¡¯d have to do would be to crouch down and crab-walk out. Simple as ABC. The zombie had figured out the first bit, at least. It was now stuck on the second half.

    ¡°Do we¡­ go in? Or like, drag him out by the ankles? I vote the second option.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see a good argument for not going in, God of Stories and Creativity. For one, we won¡¯t be disturbed by other stragglers and it¡¯s a secure place to carry out the inspection. But for your peace of mind, I¡¯ll go in first to assess the subject and look around for others.¡± Order grabbed the edge of the shutter and lifted it just enough to accommodate her height. The sound of the metal creaking upwards stirred the squid zombie awake almost immediately, and it began to snarl in a mixture of spit and froth. But although it had obviously noticed the presence of another person in front of it, all it could do was shuffle uselessly towards the sounds, upper body still pressed against its legs.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright now, coward.¡± Order called out. ¡°The creature¡¯s spinal column must have snapped; its range of motion has been severely limited to a few centimetres. Though it is interesting how it hasn¡¯t already expired. An injury of this extent would have killed off any other mortals.¡±

    ¡°Yes, vexing, isn¡¯t it?¡± Death said as he entered with Stories. ¡°For your reference, I¡¯ve personally tested several methods of incapacitation on these things. I¡¯ve tried tearing off all their limbs, punching holes through their chest, skewering them with poles ¨C they¡¯re terribly tenacious. Even torn off a few heads and they would continue to try their best to nibble at my fingers.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ what do you need for the test?¡± Stories asked the female God as she pinched the flabby skin of the squid with a pair of forceps, extracting a skin sample which she then deposited in a small container. ¡°Just a bit of blood and tissue? You¡¯re not going to say that you need to observe it overnight, are you?¡±

    ¡°As promised, I¡¯ll be quick. God of Death and Taxes, I¡¯ll require you to assist me with this. As you well know, my energy reserves run out exceedingly quickly.¡±

    Order dropped the container into her pouch, then reached out and placed a fingertip on the zombie. She likely could have completed the task herself with what she currently possessed ¨C after all, it was a mortal with little to no resistance to her powers ¨C but there was a charging port right here. Why not make use of it?

    With the confirmation that Death was in position behind her, hands in full contact with her bare shoulders, Order activated her ability. The memories of the zombie pre-infection flowed through her mind, beginning from his birth and continuing to the moment of his passing. She filtered out the irrelevant portions, things like the squid learning how to drive and getting promoted at work.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    But where usually the images faded to black and stayed that way till Order switched off her ability, with this mortal, there was a short portion of time where the information cut off, before it resumed from the viewpoint of the zombie. Like a tape with a section edited out. But the important part was that it resumed; there was no splicing in of a different consciousness, or a subsuming into a hive mind as she¡¯d theorized. The zombie before them was the same person as he was before he had died ¨C with all his desires replaced with a single one.

    To pass on his new condition to as many living mortals as he could.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Order pulled away from the zombie, wiping off the fingertip with a cloth. ¡°I have what I need.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it? I mean, I¡¯m grateful for your efficiency. But two minutes? You touch one zombie and you¡¯re done?¡±

    ¡°More importantly, Order,¡± Death interrupted, voice serious and stern. ¡°Do you know how to make it stop?¡±

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve learnt so far, there isn¡¯t much more that can be gleaned from other subjects. The reason for their current state of re-animation is a perfectly logical one. I¡¯ll elaborate when we get back to the divine realm. Firstly, I¡¯ll have to go speak with somebody. God of Death and Taxes? If you don¡¯t mind?¡±

    ==========================================

    ¡°Care to explain, God of Technology and Advancement?¡± Order placed the cup holding the skin sample in front of the bewildered God, the plastic clacking against the wooden worktable. She was flanked by two equally confused Gods, who had come along for her promised reveal.

    ¡°Sorry, but what is this about? Do you need another cage for your experiments? And why bring Death along?¡± Technology bemusedly replied, picking up the receptacle and shaking it about, watching the fleck of tissue rattle about. ¡°Are we having a party or something?¡±

    ¡°Well, I believe we deserve an explanation for why you¡¯ve subjected an entire planet of mortals to what can be safely described as a living hell. I scarcely believe that mere mortals have the ingenuity to overcome death if even we Gods are still searching for the answer. The only other person that I know of that would be remotely capable of this¡­ is you.¡±

    ¡°Wait, so this whole zombie thing was HIS fault?? He¡¯s the machines guy, right? Zombies are a whole different thing altogether. Heck, if Death hadn¡¯t sworn that he had nothing to do with this, I¡¯d have thought he was behind this.¡±

    Technology perked up at the word, ¡°zombie¡±.

    ¡°Hold on, the Revival Satellite worked?! I¡¯d forgotten all about that! Gimme a sec, I¡¯ll get the control panel.¡± Technology ran excitedly towards a cluttered workbench, digging through a mountain of inventions to find what he was looking for. As he sifted through the pile, he spoke out loud, merrily. ¡°Life approached me before a few centuries ago to help with his little project. So I set to work, crafting a mechanical solution to his biological problem. I suppose it only activated right about now.¡±

    ¡°Ah! Here we are!¡± Technology extracted a tablet from its home underneath a set of self-tying knots and brushed off the display with the sleeve of his workwear. Bringing over the panel to the waiting Gods, he initiated the start-up sequence by pressing a button on the side. ¡°The Revival Satellites (name subject to change), were meant to scan every planet it passed for a suitable level of advancement, and should it meet the criteria, start broadcasting waves of energy disruption meant to obscure Death¡¯s influence over them. Don¡¯t have to make them live longer, just gotta make them not die when they¡¯re killed!¡±

    Order¡¯s face drooped. So she wasn¡¯t the first to reach the answer, then. But she pressed on. There was still room for improvement for what Technology had come up with; the solution was flawed in its presentation.

    Wouldn¡¯t be the great feather in the cap that she¡¯d dreamed of, but she reasoned that being the one to refine the methodology still had a nice ring to it.

    ¡°Was the expression of the disruption waves as a zombification of the populace intended? I would hardly think so, but I want to confirm it with you, as the creator.¡±

    ¡°¡­yep, only one¡¯s active at the moment. I¡¯ll recall the lot right away, so we can put this whole zombie thing to rest.¡± Technology tapped away at the screen as he sent the commands for the satellites to disengage. ¡°Hmm? Oh, the zombie thing? Nah, I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d do that; thought it¡¯d just give the mortals a little more time with loved ones and all that. Have no idea why it defaulted to zombies. Could be a bug with the settings; maybe I left in a line of code somewhere telling them to propagate. Yeah, now that I mention it, that¡¯s probably it. The satellite thinks it¡¯s a good thing to be dead, therefore the rest of the mortals bathing in its rays, by transitive property, think it¡¯s good, too. Must¡¯ve hijacked the biological framework of those affected to produce fast-acting toxins so that they can kill as quickly as possible.¡±

    ¡°Do you think you can fix it?¡±

    This was the most important part: the satellites had done a passable enough job already. What needed to be altered was simply the part where the mortals they affected turned into mindless undead.

    Technology scratched his head. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s doable, in theory I could omit the faulty coding¡­ but the project was never viable from the beginning. The idea of them were to relieve the workload on Life¡¯s end; not take over completely. And it takes a heck of a lot of time to build even one of these; if you want me to create enough to cater to all the worlds-¡°

    ¡°Could you rework them to instead be larger? If it would be difficult to create more, then maybe the answer isn¡¯t the amount of satellites, but the scale of each individual one.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Technology refuted the suggestion as soon as it was raised. ¡°The whole idea of individual satellites was so that it could pick and choose which planet to work on; if we modify them to indiscriminately target every planet¡­ well, Death over here¡¯s going to be out of a job.¡±

    ¡°And besides,¡± he added. ¡°the sheer amount of divine energy it would take; not to mention the need to alter the intensity of the waves so that we can vary the expected lifespans of each mortal colony on every planet it can hit¡­ my satellites just can¡¯t handle that level of complexity! Entirely out of the question!¡±

    Order smiled.

    ¡°You let me worry about that. I have just the thing for it.¡±

 Chapter 36

    ¡°Ah, Order and Stories! What an unexpected surprise! Oh, and I see you¡¯ve brought my brother along, too! And¡­ Technology?¡± Life beamed, peeking through a crack in the door. He ushered the lot of them in, closing the door behind them.

    ¡°If all of you are here, then you¡¯ve probably solved it, then?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I have a general idea on how to deal with the problem.¡± Order said, her voice steady and even. She had wanted to rattle off the new theory she¡¯d come up with as soon as Life came into view, listing every factor that she¡¯d already thought about twenty times on the journey back to the Cube. But she refrained from the outburst.

    There was, of course, still the chance that there was something she¡¯d missed.

    ¡°Great!¡± Life sat down where he stood, amusedly waiting for her to continue while resting his head on a fist. ¡°Right then; where¡¯s this lesser God that¡¯s supposed to make all my work obsolete? Bring him out for me to see.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve¡­ dropped that line of research due to¡­ incompatibility with the desired outcome.¡± She replied hesitantly.

    ¡°Oh? So you admit that what I told you before you went on this wild goose chase was correct, then? So much for that whole spiel about ¡°getting around the restrictions¡± I¡¯d raised.¡± Life smirked as he teased his daughter.

    Naturally, he¡¯d expected her to give up in about a year or two when she¡¯d finally realised that as the creator of all lesser Gods, he¡¯d have personally checked each and every one of his creations for the potential to assist him with his predicament. The fact that he¡¯d not already solved it implied that none of the lesser Gods would have been of any substantial use to her; but it was cute watching her run about and try so hard to beat him, so he let her work on it in her own way. The child was so very uptight, and there was no harm letting her get out a little and breathe some fresh air once in a while.

    ¡°Not necessarily; given enough time, I¡¯d have eventually-¡±

    Order caught herself. The point of this presentation wasn¡¯t to get in a debate with Life over whether or not she would have been able to produce a candidate that could carry out the theory she championed; it was to present her latest work on what would become the basis of the solution to the problem that Life was wrestling with. And though she wanted so very much to get into the weeds of the reasons why it was still likely that her way could have yielded results¡­ that wasn¡¯t important right now.

    ¡°Disregarding the experiments, do you remember asking the God of Technology and Advancement over here for help before? With the problem?¡±

    ¡°¡­oh, yes! The Re-trial Thingamabobs, yes. At the time, he told me they didn¡¯t go off, so I wrote them off as just another failed attempt at helping me. What about them?¡±

    ¡°Ahem! Revival Satellites.¡±

    Order carried on, ignoring Technology¡¯s correction. ¡°Well, they did eventually activate and cause a not insignificant amount of trouble for the God of Death and Taxes. To summarize; they were successful in their primary purpose: they allowed for a planet of mortal lifeforms to live beyond their natural lifespans.¡±

    Life sat up, leaning in closer. That was news to him.

    ¡°You¡¯re saying that an approach outside of mine¡­ worked?¡±

    ¡°Now hold your horses there, guys,¡± Technology chimed in. ¡°She still hasn¡¯t answered my questions. Her intentions were to increase the proportions of the Satellites and have them broadcast a wide, far-reaching pulse of the disruption waves from a static position; but it¡¯ll require way too much divine energy, and there¡¯s the whole problem of making sure that the waves don¡¯t make a couple of mortals live longer than their brains can handle.¡±

    ¡°Have them stationed on the Dimensional Wall at equidistant points,¡± Order began to count off her fingers as she dealt with each query he raised. ¡°The Wall itself draws energy from the God of Life and Creation and should easily handle a few extra drains. Additionally, we can reduce the consumption by refining the dataset the current system works off on. You mentioned that they pick planets with a level of development that would qualify them as intelligent?¡±

    Technology nodded, still a little unsure at where she was heading with this. ¡°I don¡¯t see how you¡¯re going to do that, but yeah, increasing the amount of information fed into the system would allow them to omit planets that don¡¯t meet a certain threshold. How you want me to do that, I have no idea.¡±

    ¡°Scan my Library; while the data within is¡­ outdated, there should still be enough recorded for you to form a general image of what the satellites should focus on.¡± Order raised her index finger in emphasis.

    ¡°Lastly - the mortal lifespans.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s going to be the stumbling block, isn¡¯t it? The pulse is going to be projected outwards at a constant rate, it¡¯s going to continuously shower every single mortal with the Death-obscuring rays. You¡¯d need, I dunno, some person manning the satellites 24/7 to make sure that it selects only the ones that need to stay alive, while allowing the ones past their due date to expire on time.¡±

    Order jabbed a thumb at the now overflowing pile of meatballs in the corner.

    ¡°Those things aren¡¯t doing anything at the moment, and hardly exert any will of their own. All they do is lay dormant and do nothing. With my ability, I can reprogram them to function as a filter of sorts for your systems. They¡¯re pseudo-Gods; they have such an absurdly huge battery of divine energy that they¡¯re capable of remaining solid in the divine realm, they don¡¯t need rest or sustenance, and they aren¡¯t likely to mess up with no emotions to get in the way. The perfect fit for our purposes.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Order breathed out. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ all of it. Is it viable?¡±

    Life stared at her dumbfounded for a few seconds, before going into a deep thought, thinking over what Order had come up with. Order watched on nervously as he muttered to himself in contemplation. She was rather confident of the new theory herself; it had splendidly bypassed the three initial barriers that Life had raised at the beginning while sounding possible to achieve with the resources at hand. But there might have been something more that had eluded her; something that he was about to bring up to shatter her idea to pieces.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Only when Life looked up at her, his face a mixture of surprise and delight, did she permit the corner of her lips to curl upwards.

    ===============================================

    The rest was a bit of a blur, as Technology went about to implement the ideas that she¡¯d come up with.

    The digitisation of the Library of Records took about an hour (which prompted Technology to question her on why she¡¯d kept it from him all this time when this treasure trove of information could have helped him with so many other endeavours), and the grid of Satellites were up and fully functional by day three, the lumps of God meat wired in and given the new calling of sorting through specific mortals to help or deny.

    There were some minor hiccups with the execution of the vision as all roll-outs tend to encounter, but none of them in particular prevented the bulk of the system from being realized. There was, after all, nothing that couldn¡¯t be achieved by the correct application of Godly force.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it.¡±

    Life looked out in awe at the rows of satellites, Order accompanying him as he witnessed the fruits of their labour lying before him. After three centuries, he had finally made his dream a reality. No mortal would die without reaching a long, healthy age ever again.

    This was his utopia.

    ¡°Go on,¡± Order tapped Life on his shoulder, prompting him to turn around. ¡°You should go check on your children. You¡¯ve earned it after all this time.¡±

    Life¡¯s eyes met hers. It was a nervous glance, as if he was still in disbelief at the unfolding of the events thus far. Even now he was unsure at whether or not this was a dream. He had been so certain, so confident that he¡¯d have to devote the rest of his immortal existence in this plane of reality to creating new Gods as proxies for his feelings for the mortals he cherished.

    Never able to interact with them again.

    Then, steeling himself, Life formed a divine avatar, and entered the last world he ever stepped foot on.

    ====================================================

    The first thing the God of Life and Creation felt was the warmth of the sunlight shining down on him.

    He raised an arm to shield his eyes, walking purposefully towards a village in the distance. In three hundred years the place had hardly changed; the vermillion trees still stood tall, their leaves carpeting the soft clay ground. The quaint wooden dwellings evoked sharp pangs of nostalgia in Life as he took the sights in.

    They were constructed rather simply, if one compared them to the standards of other more advanced civilisations. A mere combination of tree trunks and the application of ingenious craftsmanship that involved interlocking the timber with one another via the carving of slots in the wood, and sliding the logs in one by one. Life knew how they were made, naturally. He¡¯d been the one to guide the earliest of the settlers on what needed to be done, after all.

    There was the faint smell of vanilla permeating the air, the aroma of freshly baked bread accompanying it. The old ways had been passed down even after the passing of the ones that Life had taught them to, from generation to generation ¨C the torch¡¯s flame burning as brightly as the day it was lit.

    It was just as he remembered all those years ago.

    ¡°Thank you, Order.¡± Life whispered under his breath, the grateful words going unheard by their intended recipient.

    He meant every word.

    Finally, the old God mustered up his courage, then walked towards the group of mortals, ready to introduce himself to them once more.

    =================================================

    ¡°I suppose this is it, then.¡± Stories said. ¡°The end of the dynamic duo. The splitting of the atom. The separation of husband and wife.¡±

    ¡°We were never a duo, fool.¡± Order retorted. ¡°And if you ever dare imply again I¡¯d be willing to have romantic relations with you in the future, I¡¯ll sever your limbs and pin your helpless torso to the first mortal planet in range of an interplanetary missile.¡±

    ¡°Message received, geez,¡± Stories backed away. ¡°But really though; what are you going to do after all this? Go back to your boring life as a librarian and spend all your time shelving records?¡±

    Order smiled wryly. She¡¯d come up with a smattering of ideas from her time spent engaging with Life¡¯s problem and was raring to give them a go. And that didn¡¯t even take into account her other plans that would have been kneecapped by a nosy Life inquiring into what she needed so much divine energy for. Now that he was off chasing the insignificant mortals again, she could carry them all out, one by one. There had also been the issue of her frankly disappointing divine energy reserves, but the solution to Life¡¯s dilemma was also the one to her energy obstacle.

    He had, after all, given her full, unrestricted access to unthinking, unfeeling terminals that would allow her to siphon off divine energy directly from the Dimensional Wall. Lumps of meat that wouldn¡¯t question why she¡¯d need to tap into their personal batteries at such a frequent pace.

    ¡°I have my plans.¡±

    ¡°Hey - yeah! We still have to come up with a name for all this, don¡¯t we?¡± Stories gestured to the rows of machinery attached to the Dimensional Wall. ¡°Revival Satellites just seems a little bit¡­ tacky. No offense to Technology.¡±

    Order ruminated over his utterance. Indeed, the title for the system hadn¡¯t been proposed by her, but by the one that had prematurely abandoned the concept; and she could even be argued to be the one to ensure its eventual success! Surely the honour of naming the invention should go to her? She went to work, her mind racing through the countless combinations of words that could succinctly describe the creation; one that would fully provide the listener with a solid mental image while describing as best as possible her valuable contribution to the final product.

    ¡°How about¡­ the Grid of Discovery?¡±

    Stories mulled the name over, frowning as he mouthed the words quietly to himself, sounding the name out.

    Then he spoke.

    ¡°Nah, that¡¯s not a great name either. Keep going.¡±