Chapter 005 Goals

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Jan 17, 2026 09:00 am

Chapter 004 Small Starts

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Jan 17, 2026 09:00 am

Chapter 003 Sunrise Glare

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Chapter 002 Night in the Hall

[The Beast

The Beast is simply the reduction of sentient life to its most basic. The struggle to survive no matter time or place, using any tactic or tool. Evolution to live, to grow, to adapt, to reproduce, to evolve further. From wings to fly, fins to swim, thumbs to grasp, teeth to bite, claws to tear, to innumerable other adaptations, anything and everything is possible. Tools. Fur. Antenna. Herding. Reproduction. Skin. Intelligence. Beaks. Strength. Hooves. Magic. The Beast is a Nature that doesn't care what form it takes or what it does so long as it lives and grows.]

- Megacosm, God's Nature Forum, Natures Sub-Forum, Character Natures Thread, Post 1528.

(Note on sourcing: The Beast Nature listed above was posted two weeks after the estimated first day Kaiser played, well before any inkling of who or what he'd become inspired numerous others to try and recreate his potential Nature. It also matches, to the best of our knowledge, the information revealed in the Chronicler's revelatory work 'The Beast' and the further adaptations of in games, movies, and written form.

A measure of caution, however, must be taken when claiming it is Kaiser's Nature. Natures based around animals are hardly rare, particularly for those who wish to play as beast-kin. Even more common are generic Natures which allow a diverse skill set. There were dozens posted before this one, and tens of thousands after. This Nature should only be taken as a representative of what could be his Nature.

As ever, Kaiser's secrets remain just beyond our reach.)

******

"Your turn, Greck," Polo said as he staggered back toward the bench, panting all the way.

The orc grunted in acknowledgement, setting down his catalogue of edible plants as he rose to his feet to make his way to the start of the obstacle course with a lot less reluctance than Polo had.

"Sometimes I wonder if I should get a race change," Polo sighed in relief as he took Greck's seat beside Neron. He began rubbing his swollen ankle. "I know it reduces the effectiveness of the pod's exercise, but it'd be worth it just to have the longer reach. And a stronger body. And height."

Neron knew better than to ask for the layout of today's course. So, he played along with his fellow player.

"The orc Pool is on the other side of the continent. Or do you want to be an elf? I do not think that will help much… Or fit you. " Neron said rhetorically, pointing out the flaw in the plan. "Besides, you've already put on a bit of muscle. No point ruining your hard work mid-way through."

His compliment had the desired effect and the slightly chubby man smiled in pride.

A light jab in jest to prove you weren't being obsequious followed by a genuine compliment about a point of concern. A classic to foster feelings of comradery and friendship.

"The wife certainly isn't complaining," Polo laughed lightly, patting his stomach. It had reduced in the weeks they’d been with the Hall, but only slightly. Then he winced and rubbed his thigh. "I don't deny the health benefits of the pods, but did they have to set the pain reduction minimum to ninety nine percent? Why not one hundred?"

"I'm just glad it doesn't transfer anything but muscle fatigue," Ingrid sighed, continuing her stretches to wind down for the night. "When I first tried to learn to fight, I started punching trees. Messed my hand up real bad."

"Some of us aren't wearing different bodies we can just leave whenever we feel like," Fallon grumbled as he gave a playful glare at the players.

He was holding a hand to his forehead, the minor ice magic causing the air to fog around it. There was no heat in his words or glare, but it was best to nip that potential in the bud anyway. Having resources among the natives was just as important as having friendly relations with players. Sometimes even more so.

"And some of us have not had years to learn basic spells to deal with our bruises and headaches," Neron glared back with just the right amount of jealousy.

Make someone feel superior and they will be more likely to look on their 'lessors' favorably.

Fallon chuckled, then winced as he moved his cooling hand to lower on his head.

Neron internally confirmed his read on the man. Backing down would have been taken as weakness. He'd have to check later to see how Fallon responded to an actual challenge before he was completely confident on his mental profile.

"Anyone know where I can get those spells?" Ingrid asked, looking from Fallon to the rest of them. Most of them shrugged. It wasn't that they didn't know about other training Halls, even those dedicated to magic, but rather she was asking for a place to purchase time with the spell crystal formulae themselves.

"We learned in school," Fallon grunted. "Don't know if they'll teach Players."

"They do not. Not for free, at least," Neron said with confidence. When he'd first started playing, schools were his first point of interest. Optim had connections though, so was it worth using them now? "What is your budget?"

"Not bad but not great either," Ingrid sighed, taking a seat on one of the benches. "I was planning on taking the winter course at Riquel’s, but I need them sooner."

"How soon?"

"A few weeks at most. I'm trying to enter one of the larger guilds and they all require proof of mastering the basic spell groups before anyone can apply."

"That's not a lot of time," Polo pointed out doubtfully. "The average is four days per basic spell. And that’s if you have talent. And-and that's if you spend all your time learning. Why the rush?"

Ingrid didn't explain but looked at Neron who had been thinking.

Sensing an opportunity here, he decided to raise his estimation in everyone's eyes.

"Tell you what," he leaned forward with a casual smile. "I think I can get you time with three of the basics." Before she could ask which, he smiled. "If you tell us why you are in a rush. Unless it is personal, of course," He hurried to add at the end, as if only just thinking about it.

He knew a way for her to get exposed to all seven basic spells, but Polo hadn't been wrong about how long it'd take to learn them. Ingrid wasn’t on a retirement cycle and so played God’s Nature after work and during the night. Even if she dedicated the rest of her time in game to learning, the most she'd be able to learn to a manageable degree would be four. Since he had a group of three that could be acquired at once, he'd save the other four for either himself or future favors.

"Which three?" She asked after a moment of thought. "And how much would it cost?"

"Scab, Spark, and Spring. And it would be a time investment, not coin."

Ingrid gave it some more thought for another moment, but Neron wasn't worried. The only reason she'd pass up on the deal was if she decided the time cost wasn't worth it due to the deadline. Which she wouldn't because, even if it meant time was lost, she didn't really have too much of an option.

The spells were not rare. In fact, they were the seven basic spells because it was easy to inscribe them for practice on any old piece of geesium of sufficient size and clarity. But there was always more demand than supply due to new players like Ingrid so time with training tools usually cost more coin than most had at the beginning.

He could practically hear her thoughts. With those three, she could use what money she had to reserve time with the other four at an actual spell Hall.

"Alright," she eventually nodded, and everyone leaned in to hear what she had to say. "You didn't hear this from me, but a bunch of guilds will be coming to the city in a month. Including four of the top five."

That got raised eyebrows all around.

"How come?" Fallon asked, a note of worry in his voice.

Neron didn’t need to guess why.

He, a Calderinian, had been aware of players for less than four years. Unlike Leidon, they still hadn’t had time to fully adapt. There’d been a rush of players when the city state was first rediscovered, on top of newer players like Neron starting there, but it remained much less popular than the starting city, even now.

Neron had discreetly inquired with Optim on her views of players, then confirmed it with a few other sources. Largely positive, but with a note of wariness was the general consensus. Natives had become very sensitive to player movement since they started appearing. Particularly since their numbers had started to really increase in the last year or so.

There were a lot of reasons, from vigilance against foreign people, to admiration for this 'other world' and a desire to cooperate with them. Players had already radically changed their world. The monetary system. The training Halls. The guilds. The connection of Calderine to Leidon.

Here, in Calderine, they were particularly sensitive. The city had only been 'discovered' in the last three years and, with it becoming a starting location for new players, had been facing radical changes in a very short time frame.

It couldn’t even outmuscle players like Leidon had been able to do in the early days because any player in the city that hadn’t started there was guaranteed to be of level equal to or exceeding the average guard.

At the forefront of those changes were the guilds.

"It's because of El Dorado," Polo guessed, eyes wide and smile wider.

Ingrid nodded.

Polo practically vibrated in excitement.

"El Dorado?" Neron asked. The mythical city of gold based on Spanish conquistador misunderstanding?

That got him odd looks from Ingrid and Polo but Fallon, at least, was just as confused as him.

"You don't watch streams, do you?" Polo asked rhetorically. Neron shook his head anyway. "You know the Westward Path?"

"That I do know. It is the route from here to Leidon that players took to discover this city."

"A lot of the guilds are focusing their explorations along the Westward Path," Ingrid explained. "A year ago, a few of them found a ruined and abandoned city in the Crags, north of the path. After the joint exploration was finished, the Bank, which had been the ones to discover it, bought out the other guilds for ownership. They plan on setting up a midway city there."

"A player-run city," Polo said eagerly. "Along what might as well be a new silk road! Anyone with half a brain knows money's gonna flow like water."

"And you want to be a merchant," Fallon nodded in understanding, moving his chilled palm to a bruise on his arm. Apparently, Scab didn’t help much with muscle issues so Sleet was the go to option when greater healing was not available or cost effective.

"Technically the city hasn't been established yet and doesn't have a name," Ingrid pointed out. "But people started calling it El Dorado because, you know," Ingrid shrugged helplessly. "The Banker."

""The Banker."" Polo and Fallon repeated as one, the former in almost reverent awe and the latter with a note of resentment.

Even Neron had heard of the player who led the largest 'guild' and had been the foundation for the monetary system players used.

Polo’s odd tone got a look though.

"I created my character in Calderine because El Dorado is closer to it than Leidon. Hundreds of other players did the same," Polo sighed in regret as he continued to explain to Neron. "The only reason I'm not with every other merchant on the road is because I want to actually be able to survive if something happens to the caravan I want to establish."

"Ha! That why the Sanctuary is so full these days?" Fallon grunted out a laugh. "Idiots, the lot of them."

"One of the reasons everyone is coming here," Ingrid nodded. "The Bank wants a safer road, so they need people, but they are unwilling to lower their standards. The other guilds want a slice of the pie. The kingdom wants influence. And taxes. Everyone will be on a hiring spree to meet that need. If I can meet the minimum requirements, I can get in with the Troubadoors, the Tower, or Tengen, if I'm lucky."

"So Banukeita isn't coming?" Polo asked.

"They're grouping up in Leidon," Ingrid agreed. "My cousin tells me they're planning their own expedition. Says it’s gonna be huge. He's a squad leader and the one who told me of this opportunity."

"Why go through all this effort?" Neron asked, probing if he should also invest time in trying to join one. "Why not join a local guild?"

"Resources."

"Safety."

"Opportunity."

Three simultaneous answers from not just Ingrid but also Fallon and Polo. They looked at each other for a moment before Ingrid continued.

"Every member gets access to not only basic equipment, but also connections to crafters and trainers. You get a network of information on the best places to level, insider knowledge on techniques and skills, and even access to Rebirth Pools if you want, some of which aren't available to the public. Working together with a guild will speed up leveling and make you a better fighter. Almost all high-level players are part of one."

So, it was a communal advancement sort of system, where existing infrastructure and communal pooling of resources created a greater sum than the individual parts.

But what were the drawbacks?

Neron was about to ask that when Greck came limping back. Which wasn’t good. Anything that could make Greck limp was bad news.

"Neron."

Neron rose to take his turn on the course but before he did so he held up his end of the deal.

"You know the clock tower in the southeast plaza? The one with the red windows?" Ingrid nodded. "Facing it, take the second street on the right. Two blocks down and another right and you will see a tannery, Taftil's. If you apply for work there, you can ask to be paid in time with the three crystals he has set up in the back."

"Thanks."

Neron nodded and smiled as he walked over to the start of the course.

What he didn't tell her was that it wouldn't be pleasant work. Tanning hides was some truly awful business in medieval society, even one with magic. He'd be surprised if she didn't smell of urine next time he saw her.

Still, he could tell Optim he had helped her friend find a worker for the fall season, which he could translate into asking her if she knew any other way to get access to those spell crystals. Neron got the feeling the opportunities to get them would be even rarer in the coming weeks. He could either use them himself or trade them for more favors later.

He didn't let the smile fall as he neared the instructor and even gave the man a cordial nod as well.

All the instructors were former adventurers, soldiers, and mercenaries, which meant they were hardy men and women. More than that, they were established in Calderine. There were very few opportunities or services that Neron, who'd only been playing for a bit over a month, could provide to get into their good graces that they couldn’t do for themselves, so a good attitude was the best way to ingratiate himself.

"Hey Clarence," he greeted. "How did things go with Sevron?"

That didn't mean there were no opportunities, just that it had to target an area they would be hesitant to address themselves.

"Great," the middle-aged man's smile was small but genuine. He didn't say more on the subject, but Neron didn't expect him to. He didn't really care how it went, it was just a subtle way to remind him of the favor. "Ready for your go?"

"Depends," Neron said with a chuckle, doing a few light stretches to limber up from the short break he'd had since their exercises. "Who is running it tonight?"

"Badul."

"No wonder everyone is injured," Neron said, letting out a small whistle in appreciation.

The Hall had a need to test their ability to adapt to different physical tasks and challenges. Baring a visit to a dungeon near the end of the season, the course was the method the trainers tested them with.

Strictly speaking, he shouldn't know which instructor was operating the obstacle course, as it was supposed to be a holistic test of the lessons they'd learned.

After the first time he'd tried the course, however, Neron had set about uncovering as much information he could. The better he did as a trainee, the better treatment he'd receive, which led to him advancing faster than the others. There was no physical reward for getting ‘first’ in this Hall, beyond bragging rights, but a better impression on the trainers opened more doors depending on what he wanted to do later.

And it was paying off.

"On three," Clarence said, holding up his hand, thumb and middle finger pressed together.

"I am ready," Neron said, getting into a runner's position facing the gate of the obstacle course.

"One. Two. Three!"

Clarence snapped his fingers and a sound like a gunshot rang out as Neron ran past the gate.

Neron didn't take any precautions as he sprinted through a long corridor of wooden walls, unmindful of anything but getting the best head start.

Of the handful of trainers, Badul wasn't the worst one to operate the course, Illien was. The dwarf, however, was the trickiest. He liked to use psychology and mind games to ensure that nobody got past his courses without a mark of his lessons.

Last week, it had been a hallway filled with traps from the get-go. There was a possibility of him doing the same thing again, but Neron doubted it. Greck, despite being the physically fittest of the trainees, was the worst at handling surprises. Despite taking a long time, he'd only emerged with a small limp.

So, knowing what he did of Badul, Neron estimated that he'd set up a similar corridor without any traps just to mess with the trainee's minds and slow them down.

He kept his eyes peeled just in case he was wrong, but he wasn’t and made a complete circumference of the course without a single incident, reaching a doorway leading deeper in. From here, his knowledge would be of only limited use, as the course could vary wildly between runs thanks to magic shifting it around.

Neron emerged from the tunnel on a right turn, immediately noticing the puppet lumbering its way toward him from the other side of a narrow room. Shaped like a large bear made of wood and animated by the instructor's magic, it was a hulking beast that had been a rude surprise the first time he had seen it.

On the other side of the puppet, an open doorway beckoned to the next room of the course.

This was an introductory training hall, one focused on survival more than combat. The obstacle course, laid out in a spiraling pattern, was testing them on their speed and ability to navigate situations without injury.

Fighting the puppet, had it even been possible for weaklings such as the trainees, was not part of the course.

The bear was an obstacle, the same as any other, that needed to be surpassed. Despite that, all the trainees fell to the bear the first time they faced it. Something to run from, not fight. And even then, you probably still needed healing by the end.

Neron had been one of the few who hadn't died, but he'd still had a leg broken by one of its massive wooden paws on his first attempt at the course and was justifiably cautious now.

Placing the bear puppet, possibly the greatest obstacle the course had, right after an empty corridor...

The empty doorway beckoned, and Neron mentally increased his estimation of Badul’s grasp of psychology.

The bear lumbered forward at its steady pace, each step leaving a deep furrow in the sand that covered the hard stone of the training yard.

Neron backed up slightly till he was at the doorway of the tunnel, giving himself more time to think and survey the room. A risk, as the bear was slightly larger than the frame and if Neron ended up trapped, he'd fail today's course.

The puppet was only two meters away.

Neron didn't see anything else in the room that could be a Badul trick, so he made the decision to advance.

With a push off the ground, he ran directly to the bear. Usually, the method to avoid the puppet was to lead it around until you could get behind it, but this room was too narrow for such a tactic. Even if the construct was slow, its arms could move faster than expected.

Perhaps, had Neron kept his momentum from the dash earlier, he could have slid under the puppet's bulk. The sand wasn't the best for such a tactic, but Ingrid claimed to have done it once. Without her nimbleness or the ability to jump over the creature, Neron had to improvise.

So, he ran right at the bear puppet's face.

And stopped.

The puppet took another step forward and Neron wet his dry lips, breath coming slightly heavily from the run. He'd been in better shape than Polo when he'd started playing God's Nature thanks to years of labor but lifting desks and chairs and a few weeks in the pod did not make him an athlete.

The bear stopped, Neron held his breath as the puppet rose on its hind legs, both arms raised above itself to come down and squish him flat. It, already being eye level with him and Greck while on all fours, now towered over him. Staring up at the creation that he knew from experience weighed at least a ton, Neron followed his plan.

Neron took two steps back.

The bear slammed forward, its crushing weight sending up a small wave of sand with its crashing.

Neron, as soon as gravity had started taking the bear down, rushed to the right of the puppet, and was at its shoulder when the paws landed.

Then he passed the construct, running as fast as he could toward the empty doorway.

He was through, into the next room, and staring at a balance beam stretched over a shallow pit filled with oil. Only coming up to his ankles, it'd still slow him down considerably. Above the balance beam, large logs swung on thick ropes, ready to knock anyone into the trap below.

Neron studied the room for a second, trying to discover what trick Badul was pulling here. This room was a generic part of the course, testing not only balance but also patience. And Badul did not do anything generic.

Still unable to notice anything out of the ordinary, Neron was about to take his first step on the balance beam when he heard a sound behind him.

Shooting a look over his shoulder, he noticed the bear puppet, never dexterous on the best of days, had finally managed to turn around in the narrow room. It was heading towards him.

Which was odd, because usually the instructors ceased operating rooms once a trainee was past them to focus on upcoming rooms. With limited focus to work with, it was better to direct their Spirit where it was needed than waste it on overcome obstacles.

Neron furrowed his brow, staring at the puppet behind him.

Was it moving... faster?

Then his eyes caught on the seam on the wall.

The entire obstacle course was designed to be a modular construction, each wall, room and piece able to move around like a sliding puzzle. The ropes and logs could be pulled into the ceiling or the balance beam retracted into the floor, for example.

Of these various modifications, having walls of varying sizes and cuts was naturally expected.

Including those that could act as doorways for larger trainees... or bear sized puppets.

"Son of a bitch."

Now aware of the game plan, Neron stopped looking over his shoulder and started making his way across the balance beam.

Ideally, he'd take time to observe the swinging logs and make a relatively quick dash across to time his position with the lull, but he had no confidence that Badul didn't have other tricks ahead or that the bear would stop at the shallow pit. He needed as much head start as he could get.

Two steps along the beam and he stopped to let the first log sling forward. This one was only the size of his arm, and he managed to quickly step passed before it swung back.

The second was significantly thicker, the thickness of his chest. Rather than approach right away, Neron paused for a heartbeat a few steps away until it was on the return swing.

Holding his breath, he released it as he took five quick steps forward, passing right behind the log as it passed.

The momentum did its job and carried him beyond it before its return, but Neron had to windmill his arms to maintain his balance, costing him precious moments.

He stepped past two more thin pendulums, and one more of the thick ones, before he stopped in front of the last obstacle on the beam.

It was obvious that Badul was manually managing the swings by the fact that two of the larger logs were swinging in such a way that when one was over the beam the other was at its apex. They were back-to-back and there was no room for a run up to gain momentum.

Risking a look back, Neron noticed that the bear was already two thirds down its original room.

It was definitely speeding up.

Taking another deep breath to brace himself for what he was about to do, Neron paused.

Then he threw himself forward right as the first log passed.

Without momentum, he had no hope of passing the second log, bigger than he was, that was coming right for him.

So he didn't try to dodge.

As soon as he passed the first pendulum, Neron threw himself from the beam toward the far platform at an angle.

The second log was merciless as it smashed into his side and Neron let out a hiss.

Even with only one percent of the pain, being smashed by a tree trunk did not feel good. That it only clipped him was the only reason he did not break his arm.

Still, the jump did its job and the log only helped send him further.

Neron let out a hiss of pain as he landed, rolling from momentum.

He had no time to evaluate the damage. While his arm wasn't fully shattered, it still stung fiercely, and Neron rose to his feet in a scramble, making a dash through the doorway.

Behind him, he heard the sound of the course rearranging itself as the logs went up into the ceiling and a floor covered the pit. No doubt the bear now had a clear path.

Neron did not. A sheer wall stood before him, twice his height and with only a rope dangling down the middle. The rope didn’t even have knots for him to hold onto.

"I know you're watching," Neron called out, running forward and grabbing the rope with his uninjured arm. "I just want you to know I hate you."

That would tickle Badul's sadism and give him a more favorable impression. Which would be needed if he failed the course.

Neron tried to hoist himself up, but he lost a precious second when his injured arm couldn't exert enough strength to hold his body weight.

Thinking fast, Neron wrapped the cord around his dud arm, placed his feet against the base of the wall, and started to rappel his way up, continuing to wrap the rope around his arm as he went.

Every time he let go of his good hand, he locked his arm in place to brace for a moment to grab higher on the rope. It stung fiercely, but his shoulder still let him lock himself in place long enough that he made it up the wall.

From the top, he found another rope he could use to descend again. If he were Greck, with his inhuman toughness, or Ingrid with her gymnastic experience, he could probably just jump, but the height was just enough that Neron risked landing badly and taking an injury to his legs which he couldn't afford.

Thankfully, the rope wall was a known part of the course and Neron had already expected this.

Loosening a bit of rope from around his bound arm, Neron dropped himself off the top of the wall. It was only a fall of his height, roughly two meters, before he stopped but it jerked his arm, and Neron let out a grunt at the surge of stinging pain.

By that point, he was only a few meters from the ground and once he undid the rope around his injured arm, the pain stinging the entire time, he let himself fall. Rolling with the momentum as he'd been taught and didn’t have perfect just yet, Neron rose back to his feet as quickly as he could.

The doorway was still a ways away, but there seemed to be no obstacle between it and Neron.

Which was instantly suspicious.

Nothing on the walls or ceiling, so the trap was on the floor.

Neron took a few precious seconds to try and spot any oddities in the loose sand on the floor.

He thought he could vaguely make out a checkered pattern, but he couldn't be sure before he heard the climbing wall behind him sink into the floor.

Neron didn't look back and instead chose to dash across the open floor, trying to place one foot on each side of a line he thought he'd seen.

His right foot came down without issues but when he placed his left on the ground, he felt a bit of give.

Neron managed to pull his left foot away before half a dozen wooden rods emerged from the sand. They were blunt and only came to his waist but if he'd been standing on that square he'd be in a lot of pain, sensation suppression or not.

With confirmation that the traps were from the ground, Neron started shuffling. He planted his feet as deep as he could into the sand and dragged them forward without lifting them from the ground.

It looked like he was skating at the speed of a slow jog, but it proved its effect when his front foot slightly dipped and more rods emerged in front of him.

Hopping forward at an angle to land on a different square, Neron repeated the process.

He could hear the bear approaching, its heavy footfalls a steady rhythm that contrasted with his pumping heartbeat, but Neron did not stop his shuffle to run.

Another burst of rods and Neron jumped one more time.

Behind him, the first trap receded into the ground.

He shuffled a bit more, wary of another trap.

The second trap receded.

The bear was right behind him. He could imagine it breathing down his neck… If it wasn’t an unliving puppet, at least.

Half a meter from where the next trap should be.

Neron grit his teeth, took one step forward, and jumped. Not at an angle, but straight for the doorway.

He was unsurprised when no trap emerged, as it would have if Badul continued with the diagonal pattern, but the jump was not to avoid a trap.

Neron somersaulted forward, not getting back to his feet as he scrambled forward on all fours through the sand, his hurt arm stinging the entire way.

A heavy thud landed behind him, more sand joining the small pile in his boots, and Neron passed the final doorway.

THWAK!!

A piece of wood as thick as his arm slammed into the doorway above his head. It would have smashed him in the chest if he were standing.

Neron let out a breath of relief and let himself collapse into the sand, rolled onto his back and lay there for a moment to catch his breath.

A round, hairless face looked down at him.

"You've got good instincts kid." Badul's voice was surprisingly delicate for a dwarf. Didn't make him any less of a sadist, but it was disconcerting to anyone who expected the stocky man to fit a certain stereotype. "I was sure I'd get you this time."

"...Thanks," Neron panted as he answered.

Badul had always emphasized the danger of doorways and corners in the early lessons of the hall. Every single time he oversaw the obstacle course there was always a trap in one of those places.

The long empty hallway. The chase by the faster than usual bear puppet. The lack of any other trap except the pressure plates. Neron was almost certain that the bear had sped up even more than planned at the end just to put pressure so that he wouldn't be prepared for that final blow.

The dwarf was a big believer that the best lessons were learned through experiencing them. Usually painfully.

"Good or bad first?"

"Bad."

"You're still relying too much on your pain reduction." The wood mage lightly kicked Neron's injured arm with his steel-toed boots. The trainee winced at the sting. "You lost valuable time because you couldn't tell your condition. You took an unnecessary risk with my puppet at the start because you hesitated too long. If it'd been a real bear that little dodge wouldn't have worked. Or if I'd been controlling it directly. You should have lured it closer to the walls. It was more disadvantaged by the narrow hall than you were. And you need to run more. Today's course was shorter than usual. You shouldn't be out of breath yet."

Neron, his breath under control again, nodded in acceptance for the criticism as he got to his feet.

"And the good?"

"You're insane."

Neron blinked a bit at Badul's blunt delivery.

"Excuse me?" He wasn't insulted, just confused.

"You got good instincts. I set up the pendulum room like that to force you into the oil. It would have slowed you down for the rest of the course," Badul explained, his eyes serious. "Just jump down, then climb up. Barely a few seconds lost to make it past the last logs. You chose to take a hit to save those seconds, saving you from fighting the wall with oil on your feet." The bald dwarf poked Neron's injured arm. Hard. Neron grunted again. "Then you broke your arm with that rope stunt, saving you more seconds."

Huh. That must be why it wasn't responding at all now.

"And this is what I did right?"

"A few seconds will mean everything when you're running for your life from a monster you can't beat," Badul deadpanned. "Trading a broken arm for that time is the right thing to do if you can expect to receive healing once safe. But to do it without hesitation? Without a lifetime experience in that kind of scenario? That is insane. All living things fear pain. It is instinct. We train so we can overcome that instinct. To make the right choice despite what our panic tells us."

"You just complimented me on my instincts."

"There's good instinct and bad instinct, kid. Knowing which is which comes from experience and pain," Badul grunted as he began to lead Neron out of the center of the course, the walls receding as they approached. "Usually, the first instinct is to panic. I've never had a fresh trainee remain as calm as you in danger. That calmness can slow you down, but it also lets you make good judgments. Except for that dodge at the beginning, every move and decision you made was the correct had this been a real-world scenario. You got second place today."

Neron nodded, having expected as much. Ingrid had emerged uninjured, and today's course was perfectly suited for her skills. This result was fine and kept him in the middle of the pack, behind her and Greck, who dominated combat scenarios.

The other trainees were waiting for him as the walls folded themselves away, and they each lined up to face the instructors for their weekly status updates. Badul joined the group, speaking in low tones for a minute, before they broke up and faced their trainees.

"Good job today," Ysold, the head trainer, told the group once Neron had rejoined his fellows. "You're all shaping up well. Maybe you won't die the minute you leave the city. I don't count on it, but it’s possible now."

The other instructors grunted out a few laughs, but the novices bore it without too much fuss. They were used to their instructor's grim sense of humor.

"Hit the baths and get some rest. If you need healing, ask one of the instructors or take a pill if you can’t deal with the pain. I don't care so long as you resurrect before tomorrow night. We're doing endurance combat, and I don't want to hear any excuses."

As the other trainees headed inside to get cleaned up, Neron debated what to do.

"Do you mind," Neron asked Clarence, gesturing towards his broken arm with a helpless smile.

The instructor placed a hand on the appendage and his hand glowed lightly as he cast a more advanced version of the basic Scab spell.

Neron winced once more as it started its work. He could have searched for someone to cast a more powerful spell to heal it quickly and without pain, but that usually cost money so he decided he could deal with the stinging pain for the dozen or so hours it would take to heal.

"Thank you."

"Sure," Clarence looked at the arm in thought, then scanned around the training yard. "Furu’s out. You gonna be alright like that? I can ask to let you off today?"

"It should be fine," Neron denied, also looking around. Nothing they had used today would require two arms. He'd just be slower than usual. "Besides, I have a deal with Ysold. I am not going to break it just because I am hurting a bit."

Few things were as sympathetic as someone pushing through pain to accomplish a task. Especially when they had an out.

And sympathy was a very powerful tool when you wanted something from someone.

"Good man," Clarence clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you tomorrow."

After a few more words of farewell towards his fellow cadets and Badul, Neron set about cleaning the training yard. It wasn't incredibly difficult, even with only one arm. Most of it was wiping down a few mats, checking the condition of the training weapons, and putting them away. He lightly swept the sand to make it more even, covering up the spots where it had shifted to expose the stone underneath.

The full hall took up an entire city block but most of that was the main building and the obstacle course. Neron never worked on the course and today wasn't a day to clean the hall, so it was only an hour to finish. Longer than usual but not bad by any stretch of imagination.

Stars, it wasn't even as strenuous as his old job. Sure, he didn't have the cleaning bots to help, but he also wasn't cleaning up after a few hundred kids.

...Though, by his standard Fallon and Greck were children too, weren't they?

As always, Neron was struck by a wry sense of humor at the fact that modern day humans had a more similar view to the elves of myth than the 'human' natives.

Even Badul would be considered young and Neron wondered how old the dwarf thought he actually was to call him 'kid.' His face would be amusing if he realized Neron was over half his age.

Neron never mentioned it, of course. Seven out of ten times it was better to be thought of as younger than you actually are. Easier to be underestimated that way. And, if it were ever revealed, it wasn't even a lie, as Neron was barely out of his childhood himself. It wasn’t as if players hid their long lives or ages, but natives often confused them with the humans of this world, who only lived to a hundred and fifty if they had at least four Jobs and usually no further.

As Neron finished his tasks, he ceased letting his thoughts wander and pondered what to do.

He wasn't tired. Shejou wouldn't be at their apartment, also not near the end of her rest cycle, so there was no point in returning to the cramped room.

He could go to a late-night bathhouse. His deal didn't include a room and board at the Hall, so it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to find a method of getting clean after getting dirty from training.

His arm still throbbed uncomfortably, and he decided on a path.

Medea's visit had pointed out an area of ignorance he hadn't paid as much attention to as it deserved. Ingrid's news had exacerbated it. Even ignoring the sole quest he had, Neron was very aware he was ignorant about games in general and God’s Nature in particular.

Even though the crystal lamps along the main roads only cast a dim light, the streets were still frequented. Late night revelers, players off their rest cycle, the occasional prostitute, and patrolling guards all ensured that Calderine retained a sense of liveliness even at a late hour.

Passing band of drunks stumbling out of one of the many inns, stepping around a group of Corpse Takers loading up a player who’d logged out too quickly into their cart, Neron retraced the now familiar steps to his favorite reading spot in the small park he’d shown Medea earlier in the evening.

There were no lamps here, but seven of the moons were full, and a half dozen others were close. Combined with the emanating light from the lamps along the main thoroughfare and the reflections off the Arch, there was little in the way of visibility issues in an open area like the park.

It was enough light, in fact, that Neron could notice the small shape concealed in the murk under the bench as he approached.

A small snake slithered out of the shadows and into the grass of the park when he drew near.

It was hard to tell with any exactitude, but the size and dark green scales matched the serpent he'd noticed in the bird’s talons earlier today.

This park was probably the snake's only safe respawn point.

Neron put the creature out of his mind and sat on the bench, reclining slightly to get comfortable for a long night.

He pulled up his menu, navigated toward the external net connection, and paused.

How did he want to go about this?

It was tempting to dive right into God’s Nature. Neron was sure he could find plenty of forums and videos on the game. A few names even came to mind from talking to Polo. But he also knew he lacked context for much of what they'd be talking about. He distinctly remembered being confused by many of his sisters’ discussions about the game, even when they tried to explain things to him.

Neron simply lacked the lexicon to understand everything said on top of missing ‘common sense’ amongst gamers. Like only using character names.

In the end, Medea had pointed him in a direction and Neron decided to see if she was correct about the early information age. It was also more comfortable to read actual studies from reputable sources than attempt to wade through the morass of public discourse to discover the truth.

Nobody knew simultaneously less and more about a culture than one who is part of said culture.

Neron spent the night and most of the next day learning about the beginning of video games and familiarizing himself with the culture that surrounded them.

If nothing else, at least he hoped he would be able to understand why his sisters were so enamored with them.

******

First of all, before anything else, I want to thank those who've given this story a try so early on. The support has been incredibly heartening.

Here is the first scheduled release for A Story Of Beasts. Going forward, expect one chapter every Saturday. I aim for 5 to 8k per chapter but my readers know I'll go over this regularly due to not willing to cut scenes. This will continue until the first volume is done, after which I will take a three week break to build up chapters and give myself time to edit before starting to the next Volume.

A note on these author notes. Unlike in my fanfiction, I will not be talking about my story directly in them. I want the text to stand on its own, for good or ill. That being said, my thought process or considerations or such will still be here as is appropriate and it will be the main point of contact with you all outside of the story.

All that said, I hope this is the first of a long standing release.

A Story Of Beasts Volume 1

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ReadingDangerously

Jan 10, 2026 10:58 pm

Public post

Chapter 001 A Foolish Man

And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.

- King James Bible: Revelation 13:1

******

"Are you having fun?"

Absorbed in his book enough to not care about the ringing of the bell over the door, Gus was pleasantly surprised when he looked up from Aljeron Humphree’s tight scrawl.

"Good to see you too," he drawled sarcastically, but his tone curbed any possible sting from his words. Setting aside the book, he left a paper marking his location.

He was glad for the interruption. Still unused to reading on paper, even after weeks, the headache told him it was time for a break. And what do you know, a break appeared.

It didn’t appear that his break was too pleased to see him.

"Are you having fun?" Fien asked again, glancing at the cover of the book he set aside and wrinkling her nose.

"It is interesting enough," Gus shrugged casually, standing up and pulling his old teacher into a hug. They hadn’t seen as much of each other as usual since he quit working over a month ago. "He appears reliable, and provides his sources, though I will have to double-check with a few people since I do not know his status in this type of academia."

Even if Aljernon's Treaties on the mechanics of reincarnation and its subdivisions was interesting, the elf had such a dry tone that it made even a fascinating topic seem dull.

Which was a shame because the man was one of the few Gus had found who followed proper citation and peer review standards for all his grandiose claims. Much better than a lot of the other magic users' works, who just went 'because it's magic' and left it at that.

"He's reliable," she nodded, returning the hug before pulling away. Her nose was still wrinkled as her eyes swept from the book to Gus. He knew the look in her eyes well enough to know that she was dissatisfied. Though about what would take some teasing out. "But nobody wants to read Humphree. They do so because they must. So... you decided to create a magic character? Is that why you're here? What's your Nature?"

"No. I have not really decided what to do yet," Gus shook his head as he moved a pile of books from the only other seat at the table and offered it to his friend. They were in a secluded corner of the bookstore, a square formed by the bookshelves in the L shaped building. "I created a generic nature, the Beast, and described it as something along the lines of 'evolution to whatever is optimal.'”

“Have you tried combat yet?”

“The girls recommended a training Hall not too far from here. Ysold’s. Its focus is on combat and survival. Mostly the latter but does have some of the former. I figured I should delete this character and start a new one once I know what I want to do.”

His friend took the offered seat, but her dissatisfaction seemed to grow with his answers. Knowing her, she wouldn't outright say what was wrong until she had enough information.

"I don’t think you should. Once a character is lost, it takes over three months in real life to be able to create a new one," she explained, looking through the titles of his accumulated book pile.

Not many were as thick as Aljernon's Treaties–Gus didn't have that much time between the bookstore's opening and his evening classes–and a few had only been used as references for terms he didn't understand.

She automatically started sorting them. A few were piled on the one he'd been reading, but far more were set aside.

One, a bestiary, she snorted at derisively and shoved to the bottom of the unwanted pile as she continued.

"That's half your time before you start University. Actually, is that still your plan?"

Gus nodded when she looked up at him.

"Then I'd really recommend staying with your current character and focusing on what you've enjoyed. The first few months are when your Nature starts to settle. Starting again from scratch would waste over a year of in-game time. Unless you want to try and maximize in a certain direction your Nature will self-correct over time based on what you do.”

“I believe Trau did something similar when she started. She was quite put out when Aleene would play without her.”

“Trau wanted to mono focus on something contradicting her initial Nature so restarting saved her time in the long run, even if she didn’t like it.” Fien said, flipping open a small book on the Krakos empire and flipping through its pages before setting it in the keep pile. “If your Nature is generic, you should let it narrow down on its own. Start doing what you want to do later now and you won’t have to restart."

"I thought I was supposed to be on vacation," Gus drawled. "I did not know I would be getting assignments."

Fien paused in her work, setting aside a book with a sigh to look at her friend.

"Gu- Actually, what did you choose as a name?"

"Neron Kaisar." He shrugged helplessly as her mouth twitched upward. "The Nature creation section came first, and I decided to stick with the theme. Since I was planning on tossing this character it did not matter if it was generic..."

"And you decided to stick with Roman roots?" There was wry amusement in her voice. "The girls must be happy they chose roman names as well."

"Really? Which ones? They are still months away, so I have not met them in-game yet." Gus shrugged again.

It was only because of knowing her for the last few decades that Gus caught the way her eyes lit up in joy and mischief.

Also, because he knew her for so long, he sighed internally. Her sense of humor was… unique.

And not funny.

"If they haven’t told you, I won't ruin their surprise," Fien shook her head, pretending she wasn’t going to have a laugh at their expense later.

"Also, I used the Greek spelling, so it is not purely Roman," he added, pretending he didn’t notice. Let her have her fun.

He used the spelling where, depending on who he was talking to, he could put emphasis on different syllables to give different meanings. Most people would not necessarily connect ‘ˈne.rɔn ˈkaɪ̯.sar’ with the softer sounding ‘ˈnɪə.roʊ ˈsiː.zər’ that most knew.

Though his forethought was largely pointless. Apparently, most players did not have multiple names. Why Gus did not understand, as it was bound to become confusing, but chalked it up to one of those ‘gamer’ idiosyncrasies he was not used to.

"Then you're somewhere between them and me, since I chose Medea as a name."

"You were always a fan of Euripides," Gus nodded easily. It was better than her choosing something like Electra or Cassandra. "Though Medea was not Greek."

"Don't be pedantic," Fien lightly swatted his knee. "Anyway, make sure you use in-game names. It's considered bad form to use IRL names."

"I have the privacy settings turned on," Gu- Neron frowned, tapping his fingers on the table. "And I assume IRL stands for 'in real life?'"

"It's less privacy and more common courtesy," Medea explained, nodding at his question. "The early internet age wasn't as safe as now and most traditions that formed in those years are still in place today. It's actually a really fascinating case of observable growth in a sub-culture and the establishment of norms and traditions. One of the few we have documentation on from its advent all the way to the modern day. The biggest issue is that we have too much, but better than the opposite."

"I will have to look into it," Neron nodded, enjoying the way her eyes lit up at the topic. "I have picked up some things from the girls over the years, but many terms, customs, and acronyms fly right over my head. Any good sources?"

Medea opened her mouth to answer, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed.

"Stop it." She said, and Neron shrugged helplessly at the accusation in her voice. "You never answered my question. Are. You. Having. Fun?"

She enunciated her words clearly, and Neron knew she wouldn't let him divert her again.

"It is enjoyable enough," he answered, not having anything else to answer. "The owner lets me read for free so long as I help her organize. The training course keeps me active, and I do the odd job for a few coins if I need money. I am even sharing a room with someone, so my expenses are minimal."

"I can give you money if you need money," Medea pressed, not letting go. "I might not be making what the girls are, but I am still on my fourth Step and level 144. I'm here on a quest that's going to make me hundreds of gold."

"I would have asked if I needed money," Neron rolled his eyes. "Like I said, I do not really need anything more than what I have." When she didn't look convinced, he emphasized his words. "I am fine. There are much worse ways to pass my time."

Neron recognized instantly that his word choice had been poor by the way her jaw tensed. She only clenched her teeth when something really annoyed her. A terrible habit he’d long given up getting her to stop.

"God’s Nature is not something I plan on getting into long-term, unlike you guys," Neron cajoled gently. "I just want to make sure the girls have viable long-term income before I commit to university and get my own estimation for how long it will last before the game ceases. I do not have any particular interest in God’s Nature itself. If I stay, it will just be to take advantage of the time dilation for assignments. If I find something fun, I will keep playing between classes and assignments, but I do not really play games."

"And when you do play games, you do the same things you do in real life," Medea said sarcastically, gesturing to the pile of books.

"A person does not change who they are just because their environment has changed."

"Alright," Medea sighed out a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she expelled air. "Let's do this. I'll be in the city for a few months for my quest. By the end of my visit, I want you to have done three things that you would never do outside of the game."

Neron went to open his mouth, his finger raised to point something out, but Medea's glare kept him quiet.

"And I don't mean something that is impossible, like using magic. Something that you've never even thought of doing."

Medea has requested you to perform three actions that you have never considered doing.

Time limit: Before she leaves Calderine.

Actions: 0/3

Difficulty: E

Impact: E

Y/N

"I did not know players could generate quests," Neron mused as he read over the see-through window. "And how would it know if I succeed? The game does not know my thoughts or my actions in reality, correct? That would break half a dozen laws."

This quest was quietly insidious, Neron realized. If it worked like he expected, he wouldn’t be able to complete it by trying to complete it because he’d tried new things at the behest of Fi-Medea before. Did she know that? Almost certainly.

"It can't," Medea nodded. "But while our bodies are in the pods, it monitors our brain waves similarly to our Consoles. For safety, of course, but also to connect us to the world. Individual thoughts are impossible to read, but combining those brain waves with in-game actions, it can make judgement calls on things like this. When you feel like you've completed the task, it will compare it to your actions and update accordingly. And anybody can generate any quest... Well, there are rules around it, and a whole bunch of pitfalls, but you'll enjoy figuring those out on your own."

"There is no promise of reward, no clarification on the result of failure, and you could leave the city in an hour, and I would fail. I have to take your word that you will stay for the weeks you promised."

"One of the most common traps new players face," Medea smiled, pointing toward the 'E' next to difficulty. "This is the lowest grade, but it doesn't make it easy. It is the difficulty based on the knowledge of the beings involved in the quest at the time of its generation."

"So, it is 'easy' right now, but it could change later? What if you decide to leave early?"

"Tomorrow I could decide it would be funny to give you only one more hour," Medea grinned. "Similarly, if I asked you to clear out of a bandit stronghold, but neither of us knew there was secretly a dragon under it, the difficulty would only reflect the danger of a fortified bandit camp. For now, since I do not plan on trapping you and this quest will only affect you and me, both the difficulty and impact are E."

"You can see this?" Neron asked curiously, gesturing toward the quest screen. He hadn't seen anyone else's system screens even after weeks in game. Was there a setting he missed? Not impossible.

"Nope," Medea’s smile was smug and challenging.

"Then you have run tests on quests, the game system, and know how to word it in such a way to generate expected results," Neron solved her little puzzle without too much issue.

An old game they had played for nigh on a decade, one that had been the catalyst for their friendship. Listening to her teach and her exasperation with him was as familiar as her face by this point.

"Yes, but why?"

"You mean another reason besides your curiosity?" Medea's smile remained undiminished as she nodded. "Then my best explanation would be your Nature was involved somehow."

"Have you unlocked the Knowledge stat yet?" Rather than confirm if he was right or wrong, Medea tangented slightly.

"No. I only have the base three."

"If you're spending time reading here, it will almost certainly be your first supplementary stat," Medea nodded toward the small pile of 'approved' books. "Essentially it’s a numerical representation of your accumulation of information while in-game. Practically everyone gets it eventually. Once it's unlocked, information you've gathered in the past will appear in front of your eyes. The higher the stat, the more information is presented and the more frequently it will do so."

"How would you even track something like that?" Neron asked with a frown. "So long as you do not have a severe disability, to the point where you are non-functional, everyone is always accumulating knowledge."

"That's why everyone gets it eventually. The only difference is whether you are deliberately looking for information or accumulating it passively."

Neron could puzzle out the rest from there. Someone learning to read from a teacher vs someone self-taught from a picture book. They both arrive at the same result, but the speed would differ, as well as the extra information a teacher would provide, like proper grammar and conjugation. Experience vs specific inquiry.

"The number only really matters in the calculation for certain abilities and the amount of information displayed at a given time," Medea continued, getting into her lecture. Neron sat back and enjoyed it. "Someone with twenty-five Knowledge will see the names of anyone they've been introduced to above their head, for example. Someone with one hundred Knowledge will have every facet of that person's recorded information, such as height, where they met last, what they were doing, their known actions and feats, and so on."

"It is a database," Neron nodded in understanding. "You have a high Knowledge stat, ran tests on the system and, from the position of my eyes and your control of how you worded the quest, you knew exactly what it would say and where."

"Not just a database," Medea shook her head, leaning closer in excitement as her smile widened in joy. "It allows for inference. A Knowledge stat of two hundred and fifty would let me see not just how much money someone is carrying by the size and material of their pouch, but also who’s trying to conceal their wealth, flaunt it, and who has great equipment but went broke getting it. I can leave this store right now, walk through the streets and know everyone's level, whether they are a player or not, their fighting style, if they’re non-combatants, or if they're criminals. I've been in this city for four hours and know three assassinations planned in the next year, two affairs between nobles, and the nitty gritty details of the explorers guild's internal politics."

As Medea rambled in excitement, leaning closer, Neron had steadily leaned away. Seeing her getting so excited, like she was in her thirties again, was rare.

He probably shouldn't be surprised. His sisters had been some of the first players of God’s Nature and they got like this whenever they talked about the game. Since Medea was the one who had gotten them into it in the first place, it only made sense she was just as passionate.

Just because she hadn't talked about the game with him before didn't mean that she hadn't fought just as hard to get him to start playing now that he had the opportunity.

Something she said did get his attention though, and he had to ask.

"Assassinations? Why?" Those seemed like a waste of time and resources in God’s Nature, not to mention creating unnecessary enemies.

"Usually to send a message, a part of a larger plan, or for politics." At Neron's raised brow, Medea smiled. "Miss a meeting because you're dead? That gives your rivals more time to counteract your moves. Assassin players are some of the most politically active, at least the good ones. It’s an open secret and there’s even a noble family who specializes in it. So long as nothing is permanent, nobody pushes too hard or takes it personally... Usually. Interested? There's a guild for them hidden in the Burrows I passed on my way here."

"I will think about it," Neron allowed.

He wasn't against the idea but didn't think he'd want to spend his few months in the game getting good enough at such a delicate line of work just to be unable to use it due to real-life time constraints. Even a neophyte like him knew that assassinations or espionage required major time commitments.

"Back to what I was saying," Medea nodded, leaning back into her seat and calming down a bit. "Knowledge, the stat that is, self regulates. For most people at least. Junk data is filtered away and only what you want is left."

"What about false data? Or conflicting information? Does it face the Trash-in-Trash-out problem?" Neron would admit his curiosity had been peaked.

"Yes, but like I said, it’s self-correcting in a way. It just presents information to you that's recorded and then, at higher levels makes possible extrapolations. But when something is proven false, then the Knowledge stat will also point out it's false in the future. So, you can gain the stat with false information, but if something comes along to contradict it, it will lead to real information. Or at least, more reliable information."

"So long as one goes through the effort to verify it," Neron nodded in understanding.

An interesting system that rewards accumulating, testing, and verification of knowledge. There was a trap in there, but Medea would almost certainly have caught it if he’s already noticed and gone out of her way to discount confirmation bias.

"My Nature, Witch," Medea nodded, waving her hands and magical lights danced across her fingertips. "Is all about using Knowledge to enact effects, usually magical, so it's my highest stat. And the more I gain, the more powerful I am, the more Knowledge I can gain, and it snowballs from there."

"Maybe I should try it?" Neron voiced the thought idly, not against the idea since he appeared to be doing the basics anyway.

"If you want, I can get you a place as a student in one of the local academies. Almost all of them have set up fast-tracks for players. Like the training Halls, but more focused on academic topics. A good enough showing in one of them will get you in the door of most magical courses."

Neron gave it some thought. It wouldn't be too different from the reading he was already doing, just more directed. And his current training Hall wouldn't really give him any opportunity to try magic.

Perhaps seeing something in his face, Medea sighed.

"What are you doing Augustus?"

Gus looked at Fien in question, not just because she had used his real name after telling him he shouldn't do the same, but because she had used his full name.

She hadn't called him Augustus since he graduated.

"I don't just mean here, in this game," Medea gestured around them. "I mean in general. What are you going to do now?"

"I am checking to make sure what the girls told me about this game is true, and its long-term viability," Neron repeated with a frown, wondering what she was getting at. Still, he answered. "If I am satisfied they have a steady source of income for a few years, I will head off to University, either Plubus U or Noteworth. Probably leave them the house and move into a dorm to be closer. They are old enough to enjoy the privacy. I will take a few general classes, catch up on anything I have missed in the last decade and a half and refresh myself on some of the older topics. Probably major in history after that. In a few years, and if my grades are good enough, I might transfer to Earth for my Masters or Grand Masters. After that, it will depend on what opportunities present themselves and if the girls are ready to take their own degrees."

This had always been the game plan for when the girls graduated and could stand independently. The only change was the order of him going to university first instead of sending Aleene and Trau while he continued to work.

He wasn't against his sisters taking a few years after high school to make some money before moving on, especially since they loved this game so much. Usually, it was only on someone's second or third career that they managed to get a job they liked. They’d also had some success, or they’d never have accumulated enough for him to quit his jobs and give this a try.

Making money off games was not anything new, and many people did so successfully. Gus was simply verifying its stability and long-term prospects before engaging in any long-term commitments. It wouldn’t do to bet their immediate futures on a game that might close in a year or two.

Besides they were twenty-five now and could make their own decisions, even if a hypocritical part of Gus' brain whispered that they were still too young.

"Worst comes to worst and things do not pan out for them here, I will pick up another job while they get their degrees and get mine in a few decades."

Fien had nodded along as he repeated the same plan he'd had for the better part of the decade, the only changes caused by the advent of God’s Nature. Despite that, his former teacher wasn't smiling.

Instead, it felt like she was nodding in resignation.

"What? Something I am missing?" Neron asked a bit defensively, noting her lack of satisfaction.

It was a good plan. Slightly vague, but such was needed when planning decades in the future. Money wasn't super tight, they'd had enough for the three pods after all, and there was still a decent savings account Gus could dip into if the girls' income couldn't meet their limited needs.

Similarly, he didn't think he'd have too much trouble with returning to school. Yes, it had been fifteen years, but that was hardly the longest time between high school and University, and he had the work history to prove he hadn't been laying around. He'd kept up with his studies in his down time, at least to the degree that he didn't believe he was far behind other freshmen.

Realistically, Gus didn't see a problem.

Which irked him something fierce. He hated feeling like others were getting something he wasn't.

"I asked the wrong question," Fien sighed. Then she looked Gus directly in the eyes. "What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?"

His friend just kept looking at him.

Sensing they were talking at cross purposes, Gus decided to change his tactics. He clearly didn't have the answers Fien wanted and she wasn’t being direct. Which meant it was something he needed to 'learn,' rather than be 'taught.' Usually, his favorite of their little lessons, not so when it was about himself.

Which meant, if he wanted to get past this, he needed to subtly divert her towards something she would 'teach.'

Easy enough.

"I have not really decided," he shrugged, pretending to understand. "Still exploring my options. Maybe I will stick with this game for a while. Seems interesting enough."

"Don't play because we enjoy it," Fien rubbed her face tiredly. "I'd rather you resell your pod than keep playing because of some sort of duty. So would the girls. Just... find something you want to do."

"I will keep looking," Neron leaned back in his chair with a shrug. "Besides, I have plenty of time. I am still waiting for the girls anyway."

Medea pressed her lips together in the way she did when she disapproved of something but wouldn't speak out.

Neron pounced on the opportunity.

"If you will not tell me what they have been up to, at least tell me what you do here? Games usually have quest lines, stories, or events, do they not? To keep players engaged? I have not seen anything like that. At least none that I did not search out myself."

"It's not that there aren't," Medea shrugged, also leaning back in her chair. "It's that, as far as anyone can tell, the creator God’s Nature made a world with a few game settings then abandoned it. Or rather, they created the world, the rules and then just... stopped. No advertisements, news broadcasts, or announcements. No updates or in-game changes. Nothing. They had the world and weren’t interested in the game."

"How did people find out about it if not for advertisement?" Though he had used it as a diversion, Neron was interested in the answer now. A mystery was always tantalizing.

"Same way anything on the internet gets discovered," Medea smiled wryly. "People were poking around. There is a site where you buy the pods but it wasn't promoted, or even optimized for search engines. Someone found it, bought one, and God’s Nature is the only native software on the thing. Everything after that was word of mouth."

Neron remembered the site, since he'd been the one to purchase the pods for the twins' birthday on Fien's recommendation. Nothing had stood out as strange to him. It wasn't the first game system he'd bought for them and there was plenty of information on the safety features.

Still...

"This is an expensive thing to just put out there. The R&D costs on the pods alone must be insane, to say nothing of their manufacturing, the game's creation, and its upkeep." Neron wasn't the most business or economically focused man, in fact Aleene was the one who had been managing the family budget for the last five years, but even he knew that businesses didn't spend all that money for nothing. "The server space alone must be crippling."

Should he be trusting his sisters' immediate future to something so nebulous?

"We have the information," Medea explained, guessing his source of concern. "Not on costs, but on everything needed to stay in compliance with the law. The creator, singular, is old world money. The type that made their fortune during the Dawn. It's all public record. After the dust settled, they had a few jobs off and on, mostly in computing, before entering a retirement cycle. Fifteen decades later they purchased a dozen kilometers of land out in the red, purchased everything they needed for manufacturing and enough servers to host a few billion people. He got a license for an Overmind, patented the pods, funded a few years of safety tests on them, set up a secondary factory on Earth, and then released God’s Nature. Then... they just stopped. All they've done is deliver pods, keep the server going, and ignore interview requests."

Neron rolled that around his brain for a few seconds, trying to decide if this was worth an older brother's intervention.

Even if the money came from before the Dawn, famous for its obscene oligarchic fortunes, that was still a lot of money and time. Even if costs were kept down by the land being in the red, thus maintained by automated workforce, it just didn't add up to not trying to recoup the costs through sales.

Neron's first instinct was to log off, send his pod back, and try and get his sisters to do the same. He didn't trust anything where he couldn't understand the motivation behind it. Everything was based on self-interest. Even charity.

But this wasn't charity. This was a lot of time, effort, money, and resources that seemed to have no payoff. Or less payoff than could be easily achieved with a bit more effort.

But there were a few threads that stopped him from following that instinct.

First, and most obviously, was the creator getting a license for an Overmind AI. Those were heavily regulated and every one issued was meticulously examined and carefully observed.

The second was the fact that the pods had verified safety tests. Since their creator funded those tests they could be flawed or biased, but their methodology would be public and he could examine later.

Finally, and most importantly, was that Fien had been the one to introduce the game to him and his sisters. She'd have investigated all this before using it herself. And she had more resources, contacts, and avenues for information than he did.

"What are the risks?"

"Only wasted time," Medea answered, understanding what he was asking. "No threat of bodily or mental harm."

"How secure?"

"Better than almost any other piece of tech out there."

"Sources?"

"Too many to count." At Neron's raised eyebrow, Medea grinned. "Barring the game itself, which is intertwined with the Overmind, almost every aspect of the pods is open source. Ever since the site was first found, people have been pouring over its specs, code, and features. I heard about it from my friends from university. They've been playing with it for the last few years. Quite frankly, they’re almost angry that it’s being used for games instead of other avenues."

Neron let out a bit of tension on his shoulders.

If the labs at Olympus said it was safe then a tech neophyte like him was better taking their word than going off based on his uninformed guess.

Which just left the motivation as the only sticking point.

"Money was not the goal," Neron spoke aloud, tapping his fingers on the table in thought. "The possibility that they did not have enough funds to advertise is shot down by the fact they kept production going and refused interviews once discovered. The spread of these pods could be the goal but that runs into advertisement issues again. If the creator 'stopped' it means his goal was fulfilled. Normally, I would say they are the 'artist' type who just wanted to invent something for the purpose of creating something. But the Overmind and the game..."

Medea let him puzzle things out with a small smile as she thumbed through one of the books on the table. She must have read something she didn’t like because she grimaced and moved it to the discard pile.

"Whether it sells or not, whether it is popular or not, the creator does not care. No, God’s Nature was either the end goal itself, or whatever end goal exists is completely separated from the 'players' of the game."

"The common theory is that the creator, Charlie Howl, created the game to play it themself. Of course, since anybody can change drastically after going through a Rebirth Pool, nobody knows who their character is. A running joke in the forums. It's almost a meme to accuse high level players of being them. Like it’s their wish fulfillment power fantasy or something."

"If that were the case it would make more sense for them to not be a player, but a powerful being in the world. Why limit themselves in such a way?"

Neron could understand if someone had dedicated all that time, money, and effort into creating their own little reality where they got to play god. Selling the pods, and the game by extension, would just help recoup some costs and get more playthings for such a man.

The name, God's Nature, was even indicative of such an intent.

"It's not impossible," Medea allowed with a nod of her head. "However, no being like that has directly appeared. Oh, there are high level Natives, rumors of enormously powerful monsters, and the usual mythologies one would find in societies like these," she elaborated before he could ask. "But nothing that anyone could point to and go 'this guy's in charge.' If Howl is wanting to play god, they're doing it out of eyesight or haven’t started yet, even after years."

"And, supporting the argument that they are a player is that God's Nature is a 'game,'" Neron played the devil's advocate to his own suggestion. "Why create a system like this when you do not care about 'players?'"

"The biggest hint of how little he cares about players beyond the bare minimum is how much of a terrible game God's Nature really is," Medea grimaced.

"You like it," Neron pointed out, surprised she would say something like that given it was her primary hobby.

"I have terrible taste," she said with a smile. "I mean, from an objective standpoint, God's Nature is a terrible game. Barely any UI, only three main stats, the Nature system is incredibly vague and ripe for exploitation, the world is too large and not designed for anyone's benefit, there's no system assistance with... anything really, from combat to crafting to exploration. No inventory system. No zoning. Death is a huge pain in the ass. A bit of bad luck can undo everything you've been working for and there's no checks or balances on anything."

"Games trying to be realistic are popular, are they not?" Neron asked, trying to remember some argument he'd heard between his sisters a few years ago. "'Hardcore Survival?' That is a genre, correct?"

"There's barely anything in AR in that genre, let alone something comparable to God's Nature. Nobody really wants to starve to death. Seeing a bar go down on a screen is one thing, but feeling that hunger? Nobody wants that.”

“There are some pretty extreme tastes out there.”

“Most people with those tastes are camping in the red or climbing Olympus,” Medea deadpanned. “And that isn’t even the worst that can happen. You could be on an expedition through the Crags, and a miss-cast spell causes a rockslide. All your provisions? Wiped out. You either starve to death, die of thirst, are killed while weak, or take a suicide pill. After waiting hours to come back, you are back at your most recent Sanctuary, hundreds of kilometers away and all your best equipment is months of grueling travel that you must do without your best stuff. If you can find your body again, which is a big if because it's probably been eaten, it’s been left to the elements for so long that only the strongest enchantments have survived to be looted by the local Durnst tribe."

As her rant had gone on, Neron couldn't help but raise a brow at her passion.

"That is a... very specific example."

"I was one of the first players," Medea grumbled, pulling a strand of brown hair behind her ear after it had fallen out of place. "Those early months were the worst. We hadn’t even learned seven basic spells. Didn’t know we even should. Lack of preparation, starvation, thirst, a random monster... We died so much because we treated God's Nature like it was a proper game, and not like the enemy it is."

"An enemy? Don't-"

"Neron?"

"Optim," Neron cut off his question with a warm smile, standing to greet the therianthrope woman who had found them in the book stacks. "This is my friend Medea. Sorry. Were we being too loud?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," the shop owner hurried to clarify, her words tumbling out of her in an embarrassed rush. "I just have to close soon. Sorry."

"No worries," Neron waived off her apology with another gentle smile, already grabbing a handful of books to put back on the shelf. He made sure to note which ones were in the acceptable pile and which weren’t. "It is my fault for forgetting tonight was the night Therin was coming home. How is he doing? Is his squad treating him right?"

"He's great," Optim babbled as she also grabbed a few of the books. She gave Medea a thankful nod as she spoke, her tail directing the witch to the row where they belonged. "All he can talk about is how wonderful his captain is. How amazing he is, how good he is with his sword, or how kind he's treating him. I think he has a crush."

"Need me to talk to him?" Neron offered, his smile turned a bit sadder, as if thinking of a painful memory. "I do not have the best history with romance, but there are some things a young man can not really talk to his mother about."

"Ohnononononono," Optim waved the offer away, flustered. She used the excuse of putting away the bestiary Medea had disapproved of to crouch down and out of sight instead of simply sliding it in amongst the others.

As she stood back up Neron noticed her looking down to the lower shelves with a frown. A few books had some minor damage to their covering and tiny scraps of paper littered the floor. Something had been nibbling on the books.

Perhaps he should recommend getting a cat?

Still not looking at him, she muttered under her breath, "I would hate to ask you for something like that."

"It is no trouble," Neron reassured her, placing the last book on the shelf above her head. He made sure to lean in a bit too much. Not enough to touch her but really emphasizing their height difference. "Really. You are kind enough to let me read for free, it is the least I can do."

"Well... If you want..." Optim murmured softly, face red. "If he comes in tomorrow, and you're here, and it's not too much trouble..."

"I will see him tomorrow," Neron said gently. "You have a wonderful night, Optim."

"...You too..."

With one last smile at the store owner, Neron joined Medea and stepped through the door of The Optimal Word.

Once the door was closed behind them, Medea had to ask the question to the no longer smiling Neron.

"Sleeping with her?"

"I have not needed to," Neron denied. Without going to a square with a clock, he had to estimate the time of day by the position of the sun. If it weren't for the tri-hourly ringing of the bells he'd have been completely clueless when he first started playing. "Single mother running a business alone. Only child at the age to leave the nest. You know how it is. A few words, a sympathetic ear, a helping hand around the shop, and I can read all the books I want without buying or renting them. She’s done similar in the past and she is also very well regarded in the local community."

Judging by the sun being half covered by the Arch it should be... four? Maybe closer to five? Still an hour or so before he needed to be at his training Hall.

If he was more knowledgeable, he’d be able to calculate the exact minute by the position of the moons relative to the rings and each other, but such a level of exactitude wasn’t needed in day to day living.

"You don't need to have my Knowledge stat to know she wouldn't have said no."

"And you don't need a Knowledge stat at all to know that she's not the type to want something casual," Neron pointed out as he started to lead them down a side street. "Come on."

They turned down a side street, pushing through most of the traffic easily, though he did have to swerve to avoid a group of orcs walking by. They barely noticed them, in heated discussion on whether the south or the west were safer at the moment for dungeon hunting.

"Not surprising,” Medea said as she too stepped aside. “Shingle-back skinks tend to be more monogamous than most lizards. Adventurer, right? Ran out on her when they found out she was pregnant?"

"Yep. Knowledge stat?" They didn’t bother trying to lower their voices. The buzz of the city street made it pointless.

"It is very useful," Medea grinned.

"I do not even know what a shingle-back skink is," Neron shook his head in disbelief. "Do therianthropes usually imitate their animal counterparts?"

They paused at the next major street, crossing when the flow of carriages allowed.

"It’s not an absolute rule but there is a statistically significant impact on things like food preferences, mating habits, and preferred living spaces. If you're interested in the topic, I'd recommend Lystal's thesis. Third row, second shelf on the right and near the middle. Opposite the book on permanent effects used to scare children and new adventurers."

Neron just stared.

Medea's grin grew.

He'd been reading in The Optimal Word for weeks now and almost certainly wouldn't have found the book without consulting the index.

"Really useful." Neron shook his head and turned a final corner. "Is that why you keep playing the 'terrible game?' To play at being a mysterious witch?"

"It's fun," Medea nodded. "I built my entire character around Knowledge and whenever I get to pull something like that." She gave a playful shudder of pleasure and Neron rolled his eyes.

They'd arrived at a small park, a few dozen meters wide and twice as long. A narrow path wound between a handful of trees starting to show color as the season changed. They weren’t alone, as a couple had spread out a blanket for a picnic and a man was leaning against a tree as he practiced the Shine spell.

Neron led them toward a bench half-way down the path, the shade of a large oak protecting it from the sun. It wasn’t hot out but he still wasn’t used to the glare of an open sky so it was his favorite.

"I slept out here for a while," he explained as he took his seat. "If I'm not at the bookstore or the training Hall you should be able to find me here. Or sleeping in the player dorm on Finhill. Room 44."

"Huh. I guess it's better than the alley I was sleeping in when I first started," Medea nodded approvingly, looking around. From their angle on one of Calderine’s seven hills they could see a fair distance into the sprawling city. "What's your rest rate?"

"A bit under two days. An alley? Really?"

Calderine wasn't a cesspool of crime or anything, at least not this part, and the locals kept it relatively clean, but Neron couldn't imagine sleeping in alleys. Yes, they'd provide more cover from the elements but, removed from the public eye, there was way more risk of something unsavory happening.

Better to just log out and take the time loss to sleep.

"To be fair, the natives didn't know what to do with the influx of players back then and my rate is a day and a half, so it was only a dozen or so times before I had saved enough to get accommodations. Besides, Leidon is a cleaner city." Neron shrugged, never having seen the city. "Oh!"

"Hm?" Neron sat up at Medea's sound of surprise and, following her gaze, scanned one of the nearby trees. "What?"

"See that bird? About mid-way up? The one with a snake in its mouth?"

It took a moment for Neron to spot it, and he had to squint to get the details through the leaves, but he did find it.

A large bird, about the length of his arm, was holding a snake's body to the bark of a branch with its talons as it tore chunks of flesh from it piece by piece.

He even vaguely recognized it. Not its species or anything like that, though he could guess it was a raptor of some sort. Maybe a hawk. No, he remembered seeing it a few times around the area when he was sleeping here. Maybe it had a nest nearby?

"What about it? Is it rare? Or a monster?"

"No," Medea shook her head. "Well, yes, it is rare in a way, but not because of its race. It's just rare to have such a low-level beast with a developed Self. They develop them easier in cities but are usually killed quickly or leave. It’s not particularly powerful or dangerous, but can be pretty useful for someone who knows what they're doing."

The witch waved her hand, and Neron heard the bird let out a sharp cry, taking to the air in surprise, the half-eaten snake in its talons as it flew off to another part of the city.

A few feathers floated down in a clump and landed in Medea's open palm, which she promptly stored away in a small satchel on her hip.

Neron debated for a moment if he should ask her to elaborate on the subject but decided he was more curious about something she had said earlier.

"Why did you call the game an enemy before? Because it is hard?"

His former teacher kept her eye on where the bird had flown off, but Neron noted that she ran her tongue across her teeth as she did. Which meant she was trying to find the right words to explain something she understood but her student didn't.

"It's not hard," she finally said. "Not really. The best way to think about God's Nature is that it does not care. It doesn't care what expectations we have for it, if we have a good time, if it’s a good game, or about anything, really. Plenty of players started in Leidon and remain there to this day. They don't want to explore, fight, or struggle. They're happy to spend their down time being a baker, studying magic for magic's sake, or just role playing. God's Nature lets them and doesn't help or hinder them any more than it does the natives. But to people like me, or the girls, or any other person that wants something out of it, we get push-back. Not deliberately. Like I said, we've never found anything that seems like a powerful god or force that could be the creator. But in its very design..."

"Like what?"

"The best example I can use is the leveling system," Medea said after a moment of thought. "It's a simple thing. Kill monsters to gain experience to level up. Classic. Basic. A million games before have done the same. But each level only gets one point to spend on stats. And only the three main stats, Body, Control, and Spirit. There are currently twenty-three auxiliary stats we know of and probably a dozen more that we don’t. They are each raised in a different manner, separate from levels. But increasing the main stats does have a measurable effect, it’s just so minuscule in low levels that it's entirely possible for a level one to kill a level fifty. So why do we have such a system? Especially when you can gain experience from doing literally anything. Combat and killing is just the most efficient method."

"But those who use the 'most efficient' method of growing get push back? Does that not make sense? Fighting is more dangerous and should generate better rewards."

"That would be the case if it weren't for the Nature system," Medea shook her head. "Each Step has a multiplicative effect on one's stats. Theoretically, there's nothing stopping someone from staying level one and getting to their sixth Step or beyond. All else being equal, despite being further along than any other player and being six times as strong as a fellow level one, they'd still be way weaker than a regular level one hundred."

"So, they need to be advanced together," Neron shrugged, not understanding where the confusion came from.

"But acting according to one's Nature increases the speed you level," Medea pointed out. "There's no exact formula but that has been proven over and over again. So, the logical endpoint is to create a combat Nature and level by fighting, right? That should lead to the fastest growth." Neron nodded and Medea's focus intensified. "But it doesn't! The earliest players to get to level one hundred were crafters, merchants, and those with non-combat Natures. Some gained experience from fighting, but most didn't."

Neron tilted his head in thought, a piece sticking out to him as inconsistent.

"But you said fighting and killing is the fastest way to grow."

"It is," Medea smile was wide and intense. "Look at this."

Holding up her index finger, Medea drew a simple graph with a white line in the air rising at a forty-five-degree angle. It hovered there, a line of white light in the park, to the visible jealousy of the man trying to master the basic version of that same spell.

"This is the average growth rate of combat Natures until about level thirty or fifty.” The angle suddenly lowered to an approximate thirty-degree incline. "This is their growth rate after that, till about level one hundred." The angle softened again, now only increasing at a ten-to-fifteen-degree angle. "The average growth rate from level one hundred to two hundred." Medea let the graph dissipate. "I don't have the data for level two hundred or above. There's just too few players that high."

"Time versus level, right?" Neron asked, just to be sure he knew the axis. "Is it not common for higher levels to increase slower?" Even he understood that logic despite never having played a video game before.

"I accounted for that in my variables," Medea shook her head. "And that doesn't explain this."

She drew out another graph in the air. Unlike before, this one was a steady incline without changes in angle, though the entire thing was only fifteen degrees from start to end.

"This is the average growth rate of crafters, merchants, or other non-combat Natures, from level one to two hundred."

Right away, Neron grasped the problem.

"Growth rate was slower," Medea explained. "But they didn't need to worry about death, respawning, the loss of material/equipment from death, or the time investment in getting to locations where they can grow."

"What happens at level fifty, one hundred, and two hundred?"

"Most people reach their second Step at around levels thirty to fifty. Or forty, for those with combat Natures. If someone hasn't reached their third Step by level one hundred, they automatically do so then. Same with level two hundred and the fourth Step. We believe there is a similar relation between the fifth Step and level two hundred and fifty, but only a handful of players have reached that level and most who do have already reached their fifth Step."

"You mentioned you were on your fourth Step? You were an early player but are only in the low hundreds? I take that to mean advancing your Nature is at the cost of time spent increasing your level?"

"It's not a one-to-one rule," Medea nodded. "But my Nature advances as I gather, compile, and advance my Knowledge. Very rarely does that generate experience in an appreciable manner. I'm in the lowest percentile for growth rate of all players."

"But that is how you gathered this data.” Neron's words were less of a question and more like a statement. "You are not just gathering Knowledge from this world, but about this world."

“Because I have to gather the data. Because God’s Nature doesn’t care about anything so it never explains anything. Not a single tutorial or instruction or anything. Everything we know is because players like me spent time and effort and lives puzzling out answers to questions. Answers that are often wrong.”

No wonder she loved this game so much. Both loved a good mystery or puzzle, which was why they worked well together, but Fien had been voracious in her pursuit of knowledge. So much so that she had been a local prodigy, getting her diploma at twenty, her Masters at twenty-five, and Grand Masters at thirty-five. Her decision to 'slow down' and become a teacher for a few decades at Gus's school made the local news.

Gus's own academic appetite, by contrast, was closer to mild interest than the ravening hunger Fien displayed when she mono-focused on something that caught her interest.

And, now that Gus was playing God's Nature, the floodgates had opened and she was eager to share every part of what she'd discovered and figured out.

"The reason I'm in town is because I'm on a quest and my reward is information on the high-level players in a guild that's in town," Medea’s grin was wild. "Natures, notable fights, interesting items, unknown locations, rare beasts or monsters, experiences, skills, or any other information that's pertinent to my study is my usual price. I'll have this darned game figured out one day."

"And the game lets you do this?" Neron paused, rethought his wording, and rephrased the question. "And God's Nature rewards you for doing this?"

"Very. Useful."

Her grin now radiation pure smugness and Neron rolled his eyes, dragging her back to the topic that had started this tangent.

"So something about God's Nature is preventing combat Natures from getting the experience boost they should get for the danger they put themselves in and that's why it's an 'enemy?' Why'd you include yourself?"

"Because almost all my experience comes from combat as well," Medea's grin fell and she sighed, slumping back on the bench. Neron let out a small smile at the sight. "Experience is gained from 'doing.' The more significant the 'doing,' the more experience. Any time one kills something, they are depriving that being the ability to 'do.' At least for a time. Me learning about the world doesn't 'do' anything. If I deleted my character right now, no matter how far my Nature has advanced, my impact has nothing to do with the Knowledge I've accumulated, just how much I've 'used.' I could know everything in this world and it would have the same effect as if I knew nothing if I don't accomplish anything with my Knowledge.”

“Information is only potential power,” Neron quoted and got another swat on the leg for his trouble.

“Combat is just the easiest way to grow along the way. I gain new, applicable, Knowledge through combat as well, but anyone who tries to grow through combat knows God's Nature is an 'enemy,' even without the hard numbers I have."

"Why do you do it then?"

Medea blinked at Neron, sitting up again.

"I mean, I know you enjoy it," he elaborated. "But you are always grumbling about it. The girls too. Trau is always grumbling about backwards natives, and Aleene has spent entire dinners running numbers in her head, not saying a word. You feel pain here. You spend days, weeks maybe, just walking somewhere, only to die, lose all your stuff, and do it all again. You have been here for... seven, eight years with the time dilation? And you are barely over level one hundred?"

"Only about five years," Medea pointed out. "When you delete your character, it takes a year and a day for you to be able to create a new one. And I did that after I was already level sixty-three in my old one."

"It is not about level," Neron shook his head. "That was just the example I had. It is more about... Why do it at all? It sounds like an abysmal experience, that takes too long, provides no tangible benefit outside of the game. I understand making money out of it, like the girls are trying to do. But even that is just temporary.”

Was her curiosity so great that she’d put up with all that just so she could learn about a game that would be gone in, if he was generous, a century? Two if it broke the record which its sales did not indicate it would. She was essentially devoting a huge portion of her life to something that she called terrible and would have very little, if any tangible benefit in the short or long run. This game they invested so much time and effort into would be nothing more than a memory. They’d be forced to move on to something else. Continuing their schooling or finding another job, one they probably will not enjoy as much.

So why go through all the pain and effort?

“But you are not here to make money. So why keep going? What makes it enjoyable?"

Medea, listening to him, seemed to come to an understanding of what he was asking.

"I guess I'm just like the creator," Medea gave a small, playful shrug. "I don't need a reason. I don't need events, or external rewards, or ways to make my life easier. I've accomplished all that on my own. I never starve anymore because I know what to eat and am prepared. I rarely die because I can tell how strong something is and how risky it is for me. Yet, despite all that, there is still so much I don't know. We haven't explored even one percent of God's Nature, even after a year and a half of playing in real life. Can you imagine it?"

She smiled at him, and Neron felt goosebumps break out at the sight of that smile

"What else is out there? What haven't I seen? What haven't I learned? How strong can I get? What will happen next? I don't know. And that is wonderful. I guess that’s my answer. God's Nature is a terrible game, but it is a wonderful world. And, as much as I'll complain about it, I absolutely love living in this world."

It was the same smile he'd noticed her giving him increasingly often recently.

"And I hope you will too. This place is huge. I’m sure you can find something you want to do. Even if you are only here for a short time, do your best to make the most of it."

That small, infinitely gentle and loving smile.

"Find something that you love, Gus. Something you enjoy. Fight. Build. Explore. Relax. Grow. Learn. Whatever it is, just do something you love. If you can't think of anything, then just take a walk and find something to kill."

A smile that was filled with enough pity that Augustus had to sit on his hands so she wouldn’t know his knuckles were white.

"Even if it's only temporary. Even if the world pushes back. Just have fun."

He wanted to tear the lips from her face if it would get rid of that damned smile.

******

Welcome, new readers! And for those coming from my fanfiction: Welcome back!

Now, I can hear you asking, ReadingDangerously, WTF is this? This, my dear vict- readers, is A Story Of Beats, my first original work. A basic bitch LitRPG. Please, please hold your applause and sighs of disappointment.

I know.

I know this is nothing new. I know there are a million and one others of the genre, many written by much better writers than I. I know my existing fans were hoping for something... more after practically a year of silence. But, and this is the important part, this is what I wanted to read, thus it is what I wanted to write.

For those unfamiliar with the genre... WTF are you doing here? There are much better examples of LitRPG out there. Go read those. For those who are familiar with LitRPGs, you might have felt what I did. And that is the severe lack of actual game based stories. I do not mean stories set in games, those are a dime a dozen. What I mean is stories that can be told through the medium of games. I mean actual ones. Not deathgames. Not trapped in games. Not isekai with game like elements. Not system apocalypses. Not fantasy worlds with game frameworks. I mean a story that can only exist because it is nothing more or less than a game.

That is what A Story Of Beasts is. A story about a man playing a game.

Now, I hope I have an original thought or two and the story is enjoyable for you readers. And I am not going to shy away from a few cliches' of the genre. In fact, I am going to lean into many. Progression. Cute little companions. Levels. Quests. Yadda yadda. But, let me be clear about what this is not:

This is not a dungeon grind.

This is not a number heavy story.

This is not an action focused story. (There will be plenty, but it's not the focus.)

This is not a loot/waifu/skill collector story.

What A Story of Beasts is, is character focused. It is heavy on the dialogue and the growth and low on the stats.

This is a story with an end.

I am on record from my fanfiction as say that I will never release anything unless I know how it ends. That is this story. It won't be short, but nor will it be one of those web novels with thousands of chapters in constant escalation. I have a beginning, middle, and end planned.

Finally, this is a story that will not shy away from certain topics. I do not plan on writing sex scenes, but nor will I avoid the topic. Violence and blood will be common. Disturbing content will not be avoided. Political, philosophical, religious views you disagree with will be present, no matter what political view you have. A lot of it will be stuff I don't personally agree with myself, but a good story does not only have copies of the author as characters. This is a story, not real life. If you cannot distinguish that, then I am sorry to say this is not the story for you.

This is a story for adults. Not because of smut but because I will be treating my readers as adults. I will not be holding your hand. I will be telling a story I want to read and hope you do to. What you make of it is all up to you.

If all that sounds like something you can get on board with, then I welcome you to A Story of Beasts.

A Story Of Beasts Volume 1

AStoryOfBeasts

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ReadingDangerously

Jan 10, 2026 10:07 pm

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Chapter 000 Theobrôma

Death- O Modern Deities! Read tales of deaths, of the Beast lurking,

Triumphant, terrible, that cost a world countless sorrows,

Raising up those baleful monsters beyond the reach of man and Blessed,

Usher now the words of terrible joy and rapturous death.

Begin, Storyteller, with that first death, the death of ignorance.

******

"This is the end."

With a teasing message to her community to stay tuned for her next project, Helen pulled herself from her system to address the man who'd rudely entered the cabin without even knocking.

"We’re there?”

“We’re as far as I’ll take you.”

“Thank you, Captain."

"You get what you paid for," answered the captain of the Wavetuner, a short sea elf with a mop of dark hair and a scowl that hadn't disappeared in the week since they'd left port.

"Speaking of-"

"The boat's ready," Aomar interrupted her. "Fully loaded with a day's supplies for you and the lassie."

Helen didn't express any sort of displeasure with the man, unpleasant as he was. He'd been the only one willing to fulfill her request and she had put up with worse in her time. He was clearly a Native or he'd know who she was and would be treating her far differently.

"Once more, you have my thanks. And my assistant? Where is she?"

His attitude would see the next chapter of his life be filled with disaster, either from mutiny or shipwreck. The exact cause was irrelevant, the Narrative simply demanded ruin. She was leaning more towards mutiny, personally. Not all sailors aboard the Wavetuner deserved to lose their livelihoods because their captain was an asshole.

"She's decided the prow needed a new paint job." His scowl, if possible, deepened further.

"Then I shall retrieve her and get out of your way."

Stepping past the churlish captain to exit the cabin, her pack already prepared, Helen navigated the tight hall toward the stairs. The usually bustling interior was barren of life, and she was unsurprised to find them all on deck and in the rigging, looking out over the prow to the sea beyond.

Helen didn't blame them.

The sea had become a familiar, if monotonous, sight to her in the last week. Nothing but water, sky, and clouds for days on end. They hadn't faced the slightest impediment on their journey from man, nature or beast. Not that she expected to. A short paragraph was all it had taken for the journey to become nothing but a calm and dull affair, supplementing the ship's coating.

Yet now the familiar and unbroken field of blue, white, and grey waves was harshly bisected by the deepest shade of black.

The water flowed.

The waves rose and fell.

Clouds drifted by.

Yet there was an invisible line where it all stilled, where blue seas turned pitch and the waves calmed into a glassy finish. Clouds passing this invisible line unraveled into wisps of vapor that faded into nothing.

Even the sunlight appeared to dim over that black water, and the blue sky cast no reflection on the obsidian surface.

The horizon was a clear line where blue sky met black sea, as if the world itself was telling all who approached that it wanted no part of this place.

Helen found Tassel among the sailors gawking at the Black Sea. This was probably the first time any of them had seen the infamous location as most ships made extreme efforts to sail around it.

For good reason.

"Ready to go?"

"Uh," the cat beast-kin tore her gaze away from the dark expanse to meet Helen's gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

"You going to be alright?" Helen asked her niece, noticing how pale she looked. For her to be like this despite being over level two hundred and aspected mostly into Body was concerning.

"Fine. I'll be fine."

The ship chose to mock her by swaying slightly. Everyone barely moved, well-practiced sea legs letting them adjust without conscious thought. Even Helen and Tassel were used to it by now, though the latter paled further and clenched her mouth shut.

"It'll be worse on the boat."

"Just for a little while. I can, urk, handle it."

Helen didn't try to persuade her further. Like all youngsters before their second century, Tassel could be hardheaded sometimes. If she was going to log out, she would have done so days ago.

Not that Helen could blame her aid for putting up with the discomfort. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Risk and discomfort went hand and hand with opportunity in this world.

The sailors’ eyes either followed the pair or remained locked onto the Black Sea as Helen and Tassel put their bags on the small rowboat and boarded it themselves.

"I ain't one to stop someone who wants to face Mother Foam," Aomar said to Helen before his crew lowered their boat to the water. "But ain't nobody comes out of the Black Sea alive. If yer lucky, you'll starve to death. If yer not, you'll be a cautionary tale when Ordu’s blessing saves you from this foolishness."

"Is that worry I hear, Captain?"

"Way I see it, your coin can either buy this boat and supplies or a return trip to Brimstem."

"I thank you for the offer, but I will have to decline." The concern, or perhaps warning, was a surprise. Maybe not complete ruin then. Perhaps just a touch of misfortune. Something for his attitude. That would also fit the Narrative she'd written. "I know what I am doing."

"Fecking Players," Aomar spat over the side of the Wavetuner. "On your heads be it. Lower ‘em down boys."

The pair and their meager supplies touched down with a spray of sea water. The smaller vessel rose and fell much more than the Wavetuner and Helen could tell her niece would need a minute to adjust so she grabbed the oars and began rowing.

Though she mostly aspected into Spirit, her Body was still enough that she had them far enough from the ship as to not be caught in its wake as it began its turn from the Black Sea. A few sailors waved at them, but Helen was busy rowing and Tassel in keeping what remained of her stomach acid on the inside of her body, her head between her knees and ears pressed against her scalp.

It was only when the ship was well on its way back to port and their little boat, tossed about on the waves as it was, was halfway toward the inky black water that Tassel finally spoke.

"Got it," she grunted through clenched teeth, her head still held in her hands folded over her legs to try and concentrate. "You can let go."

Helen did so, laying the paddles back into the boat.

Their small vessel continued to move forward, picking up speed slightly, as it cut through the waves toward their destination.

"Good job," Helen encouraged, moving to sit beside the cat beast-kin and rub her back soothingly.

The pair stayed like that for a few minutes as their boat carried them toward their goal. Helen watched the dark water approach and couldn't help the flutter she felt in her stomach.

There was fear. A lot of fear. That was inevitable considering where she was going and who she was meeting. To not feel fear would be madness itself.

Yet it was not fear alone that had her heart racing.

Nervousness. Excitement. Joy. Wonder. Curiosity. And so many other contradictory thoughts and feelings rushed through Helen’s head that she couldn’t have chosen one even for all the gold in the Bank’s Vaults.

This was it. The opportunity of a lifetime. She was on the verge of a fortune. In money. In fame. In progress.

If this worked, she'd go down in history. Her Nature would almost certainly take the next Step, one that less than fifty players ever reached in God's Nature.

Not bad for a two-bit reporter.

The moment they crossed the invisible line that separated the Black Sea from the rest of the world could not have been more obvious.

Their boat, swaying to and fro atop the waves as it advanced under Tassel’s spell, fell almost a meter as it crashed onto the still water, both women bouncing in their seats. Tassel’s head crashed into her knee, not nearly enough to damage her but enough to disrupt her concentration.

There was no spray of surf. There were no rolling whitecaps.

The boat had stopped right at the edge of the ocean, where blue met black in harsh divide without even ripples disturbing the glassy surface.

Helen couldn't help herself from shifting slightly, just to make the boat sway to ensure they were still on water and not some manner of other substance.

It rocked as it should, yet still no ripple disturbed the obsidian sea.

Helen was about to grab the oars again when Tassel sat up with a deep breath.

"That's better," she said, letting out a sigh of relief. Without the swaying of the sea, her high Body quickly recovered her balance. "I hate sailing."

"We're going to have to get back somehow," Helen teased with a grin.

"I'll kill myself," Tassel deadpanned, her tail flicking in agitation. "You can bring my stuff back."

"Who knows," Helen said airily. "I might just die with you. Or before you."

"You were invited," Tassel shook her head slightly, her eyes narrowed once more in concentration. "Nothing's going to happen to his guest."

"Unless our host decided he doesn't like my stories," Helen tried to joke but her niece bristled.

"Kaiser isn't like that!"

"Just a joke," Helen held up her hands placatingly. That had been a mistake. She often forgot that her usually sensible, if stubborn, niece was a diehard fan. "I honestly do not believe anything negative will happen to me. It just seems too good to be true, and this is Kaiser after all."

"Exactly," Tassel nodded, as if her aunt had proven her point. The boat started moving forward once more, the inky water undisturbed by its passage. "It's Kaiser."

Helen decided to steer clear of that argument for now. One way or the other, she'd find out who was right soon.

The next hour passed in relative silence as the pair gradually headed westward, the blue ocean long left behind. They talked intermittently and took breaks occasionally, to let Tassel’s Spirit relax but there was little in the way of meaningful discussion. They’d spent decades working together and were long past the need for idle chitchat to fill the silence. Both were a bit too preoccupied with their own thoughts to really keep a conversation going.

"You are early. Good."

Not so preoccupied that they should have missed someone appearing on their small boat.

Neither Helen nor Tassel were combat types but they both instinctively readied themselves to confront the unexpected arrival.

It was a woman, and a beast-kin of a sort, and... that was all they could tell.

Despite looking right at her, Helen could tell nothing else. Not her age, appearance, or even her height.

It wasn't that the woman was invisible, or that they couldn't make out individual features such as size, coloring or form, but rather there was too much there. Too many forms. Too many colors.

One moment there was a demure housewife with plain features and scales and the next there was a towering amazonian tiger woman. A little girl with woolly hair was suddenly an old crone with bat wings.

It was a shifting, blending mess Helen was watching intently yet unable to really make anything out. There was no clear-cut moment where the figure changed, yet the fact it did was indisputable.

Realizing who this was, Helen relaxed even as she averted her eyes from the creature, only keeping track of it out of the corner of her gaze. That lessened the headache slightly.

"Greetings Lady Deceit, Mistress of-"

"Whores."

Well, they were going to die now.

They were going to freaking die now.

Helen's mouth clicked shut as her niece spat the word. God damn it! After all this Tassel was going to ruin her chance? A frothing rage welled up in Helen's chest, and she swore she'd skin the girl and display her pelt for all-

Taking a deep breath, the Chronicler hardened her Spirit against the intrusion of rage.

This rage, this hatred, was not her own. It was from someone, something, else.

Yet it was not an effect associated with She of Tender Lies, either.

If She Who Ravages Softly was nearby, then Helen could hardly blame her niece for lashing out at one of the most hated creatures on all of Délaash.

Thankfully, it seemed as if Lady Deceit did not take offense.

"Cat." Was all the acknowledgement Tassel received for the insult.

The exact tone was impossible to discern, as was everything to do with the Mistress of Lies but at least they weren't on their way to a Sanctuary, confused on whether they were alive or dead.

"Follow me."

Though it looked to Helen as if the creature was facing the opposite direction, she somehow knew for a fact it was her being addressed.

"With pleasure," Helen gathered her pack as she answered. "Where are we-"

The words died on her throat as she realized their little boat was resting on a bed of rocks just below black water.

It wasn't that they had run aground. One moment they'd been floating in the vast nothingness of the Black Sea and the next they were on the shoals of an island that hadn't been there before.

The moons and stars reflected off the mirror blackness of sea, confusing the senses as to which was the sky... Only, it had been daylight a second ago.

Helen would have believed they'd been brought to a hidden Dungeon or pocket realm if not for one crucial detail.

The supplies they'd been given were half gone.

"This way."

The confounding woman called from the island's shore where she abruptly stood. Next to her eerie blue fire burned at the base of a withered tree without consuming the bleached wood.

"We don't need to-" Tassel’s angry words were cut off when Helen covered her mouth with her hand.

"How's your Spirit?" The Chronicler hissed into her niece's ear. Even though she knew it was useless, she kept her voice down.

The odd question had the cat beast-kin blinking in surprise. Good. Divert her from the rage. Helen would rather not continue relying on the woman's infamously mercurial whims for their continued survival.

"It's..." Bushy brows narrowed in focus and confusion. "It's worn. Very worn. Locomotion shouldn't have taken that much out of me. I probably couldn't cast a spell if I wanted to. I don't get it."

"I do."

Helen didn't explain her grim statement as she hopped off the boat and into the shallow water.

They hadn’t been teleported or entered a Dungeon. That wouldn't explain the lack of supplies. Or at least, that wasn’t all that had happened.

Instead, they'd completely lost track of half a day and only regained awareness when Lady Deceit greeted them.

She, an Omen specializing in information collection and retention, had lost at least six hours of her life without even realizing it!

Was this a feature of the Black Sea?

Or had someone acted against them?

The creature waiting for them did not care for their unrest, turning away (maybe) as they approached and drifting into the dark woods.

"Do not leave the path." More blue flames lit up on each side of her dainty bare feet clade in boots covering clawed paws and hooves. Helen followed behind her without words, Tassel bringing up the rear.

"What if we do?" Tassel asked, unable to prevent the rage and hatred from resurfacing when she looked at the Deceiver.

"Then you are prey."

"So what? I'll just die."

"You will not."

Helen, who should really be stopping her niece, was mostly focusing on trying to hold onto her grasp of reality.

As an Omen, she should be able to resist this, yet the blue flames at their feet cast shadows along the trees and faces danced beyond the flickering light. Faces filled with hungry eyes and drooling jaws and far too many teeth.

She knew she was two Steps away from the creature that led them but was the difference so vast? She'd met with Demigods before and even if they were strong, she'd at least been confident in her ability to escape. Or fight back.

Now she wasn't even able to guarantee she could die if she wanted to.

"Stop."

Helen almost ran into the creature when they suddenly paused in their journey.

When had Tassel fallen silent?

When had they left the forest?

No. They hadn't left the forest. Helen just couldn't see it through the shadows and the jaws and the headache.

"Let go," Lady Deceit ordered. "Focus on the hatred. Let it flow. Lose yourself in it or you will be lost as we approach."

"Don't listen to her," Tassel warned, her voice hysteric. Yet raising her voice was all she did. "It's a trap. It's always a trap with her!"

"Letting you Find yourself again will make us late. Just focus on hating me."

Without any further instructions, She of Tender Lies resumed her march through the woods.

Helen would be a fool to trust the monster.

It would be even more foolish to keep her master waiting.

Relaxing her tense Spirit, the Chronicler at once felt more comfortable.

And angry.

This bitch! What was with this bullshit!? She'd been invited! Who'd this whore think she was? Just because she'd spread her legs for anyone didn't make her actually important. Not like Helen. Helen was going to change the world, and this cunt was playing petty tricks? That's all this was, wasn't it! A petty trick to satisfy some pathetic ego! She'd probably begged for the chance to show off. Probably while laying on her back. What if she was planning something with Helen and Tassel? What if this was her newest scheme? Were they supposed to be minions in her next betrayal? Well, Helen wasn't going to have it. Even if she couldn't win, she knew who could. As soon as she told Him of the whore's plan her skin would be decorating the nearest-

"We are here."

The creature had stopped in front of large double doors of a dark wood. Scenes and images had been carved into the wood but neither Helen nor her niece could give them any attention.

As soon as they'd stepped foot onto the marble stoop in front of the door the pair had collapsed to the ground. As if puppets with their strings cut, they lay sprawled in undignified heaps, gasping for air.

"Ha, what, huh, the, phew, fuck!" Tassel panted out as she pushed herself up.

Her question went ignored.

Helen at least waited till she'd regained her feet and breath before she asked, "Was that truly necessary?"

Lady Deceit was still the shifting, blurring mess of a thousand beast-kin women but the raw and visceral hatred and rage that was once there had vanished as soon as they'd touched the marble platform.

Or, at least, the foreign rage left. Helen was still more than a little peeved about going through all that and this was the Liar afterall. There was a reason she was so vilified.

With eyes unclouded by intrusive thought, Helen noted that their platform ringed an enormous building of white marble shining in the moonlight, interlaced with black wood that absorbed the stars.

Neither organic nor stone, it was an alien, unnatural building fashioned not unlike a Greek temple, with its columns and dome, yet it was layered thrice as if it were an eastern pagoda.

When they'd left the forest, neither could say, for now they stood atop a mountain peak, adrift in a sea of clouds with radiant stars above.

"It was. Nothing may reach this building without first passing through a Domain. There are few you could survive. Fewer still without side effects."

"Why Lady Hatred? Why not yours?"

While Helen wouldn't have put it so bluntly, that was a question she'd like answered as well. It wasn't the Joyful Tomb or the Vast, but she'd much rather have faced the illusions of Sweet Lie with its mistress by their side than the Hunting Ground without theirs.

"Only one of you would have survived my Lie.” Thankfully, the creature did not ignore her assistant this time and answered. “And they wouldn't be coherent enough to be useful. Now, compose yourselves. You are to face the Ascended."

A reminder of their purpose sent the pair into a scrabble to Scrub the journey from themselves. While Helen contented herself with a cast of the basic spell and a quick brush of her hair, Tassel removed a small makeup kit from her pack, taking a few moments to dab her lips and cheeks with color.

The Chronicler felt the urge to remind the girl that she was doing this in front of Lady Deceit herself but held back. There was no actual way to tell how the creature responded to anything they did with her body and voice so concealed.

For all Helen knew, the monster was laughing her tails off at her aid. She was far from the first woman to try to appeal to Kaiser in front of the creature, and Tassel would not be the last. Myth held that it was only those who were successful that incurred the wrath of the Liar and those rejected received her blessing.

Helen, a purveyor of such myths, hadn't discovered proof one way or the other of its validity but if Tassel wanted to help her test it, that was on the girl. That was if she would be seriously trying her hand at Kaiser and wasn't simply trying to look the best for her idol.

It only took the pair a minute to be presentable, even if not fashionable, and Lady Deceit seemed to accept it as she turned and pushed open the grand doors with a fin.

If the outside was odd, then the inside was… impossible.

The building had been created to be deceptive and, even if forced at blade point, Helen wouldn't be able to give its exact dimensions. There were still pillars... she thought. Or they could be part of the walls. The ceiling was perhaps triangular, though the circular dome seemed to stretch all around, touching both the wall and the floor and wrapping under it as if they walked the inside of a sphere.

The intertwining of bright white marble and black wood in spiraling and disorienting patterns played tricks on her mind but Helen could tell there were scenes and images carved into every part of the building. She couldn't identify a single one, for her eyes played ruses, yet her Nature resonated with every inch of the building despite not sensing a single enchantment.

That, however, was not why the visitors froze at the doorway even as Lady Deceit kept moving forward.

'The Ascended' was a title that could be used singularly or in the plural in Helen’s native tongue and she immediately regretted not asking for clarification.

Instead of just one, the one that had invited them, they suddenly found themselves under the gaze of all three.

And each was at least a hundred meters tall.

They were smaller than ants to these beings.

"Punctual as always," He Who Paves Roads greeted Helen with a familiar nod of approval. He sat straight upon his Throne of Pages, despite Helen knowing that his Seat should be half a world away. Flanked on his left and right were his Pen and Stone, their own Seats smaller, less distinct, and unfinished. "I am looking forward to this Story of yours."

Helen hurried to bow to her patron, knowing how he preferred to maintain proper etiquette, but she didn't have a chance to give the proper response before She of the Million Vows loudly interrupted.

"Little Sister!" Unlike her counterpart, the Maiden's Seat was nothing more than a large cushion she reclined upon, yet Helen could only look at the Crossroads out of the corner of her eye lest her eyes burst. Also, unlike the Builder, she was surrounded by dozens of men and women in various armors and wielding a wide assortment of weapons. "Come give me a hug!"

As always, Lady Deceit's tone of voice and inflection was completely incomprehensible to Helen, but her words left little in the way of doubt of her view of the demand.

"Should you desire an embrace, I'd implore you to remove yourself from God’s Nature, find the sharpest object at hand, and hug that."

The words were unfailingly polite, yet Helen found herself tense, fearing that the Liar had crossed one of the Vows that would begin a bloodbath.

One that neither Helen nor her niece were likely to survive, given they were surrounded by Demigods and Ascended.

Instead, the Maiden cast her head back and let out a boisterous laugh.

Still bowing, Helen couldn't make out her exact expression but out of the corner of her eyes she noted that a few of her Hall were frowning at the monster, and one of the Maiden’s husbands looked genuinely angry. The rest were laughing with their patron.

"Rise."

Helen instantly straightened at the order. Behind her, Tassel rose to her feet from where she'd been kneeling.

Strictly speaking, Helen fell under the Builder's purview and her niece, when she took her next Step, would fall under the Maiden's. In the presence of both, there was nothing that should supersede their will.

Unless you were Kaiser.

It was easy to focus on the other two Ascended. They were visible in the light the building radiated. (Or the light might be coming from the hole in the ceiling… or the floor… It was coming from somewhere! …Probably…) They were literal giants, pillars of reality in a space that seemed to shift and warp around them. Their sides of the triangular arrangement were also closer to the door. Focusing on them was easy. It was reliable.

Despite their power and position, both were also well known for their magnanimity and humanity. It was madness itself to claim they were safe havens, yet they could be nothing else in comparison to the third occupant.

The Beast was hidden in the dark of the far side and, if it weren't for the fact he'd dangled the most tempting of bait, Helen wished to be on the other side of the planet. Preferably in a hidden dimension. Or dead.

Anywhere but directly in front of him.

Like the Maiden, just looking at him was dangerous.

Unlike the Maiden, looking at him did not reveal anything.

The only details visible were eyes that glowed in a dark too black to be shadow.

There were thousands of them, all distinct. She could tell some were pairs, but others were singular, or came in sets of eight, twelve, nine, seventy-two, three, eighteen or-

Helen focused on the main pair of eyes, lest she get lost in the darkness of the Wild.

It was the first time she'd ever met Kaiser in person, yet she could tell which eyes were his instantly. They weren't human. They weren't even identifiable as any species at all. At once slit like a cat's, flat like a goat's, wide as a fish's, beaded as a lizard's, multi-faceted as an insect's, and a thousand more types that came together to create something absolutely alien and uniquely Kaiser.

Those eyes were looking at her and through her. They were unraveling her and laying her bare and naked. They stripped her of everything that made her ‘Helen’ and left naught but a beast behind. She was nothing more than a bundle of instincts dressed up in lies and civilization.

Beliefs, morals, good, evil, laws, they all disappeared as ‘Helen’ fell away and the ‘Chronicler’ was all that was left.

"Acceptable."

Kaiser blinked fifteen eyelids and Helen returned to life.

"Leave the girl alone," the Maiden sighed in fond exasperation, lounging further back on her Throne of Roads. "She's doing her best."

"Doing one's best is not a suitable benchmark," The Beast's voice was something less than a growl or roar yet more than something a human could naturally produce. "If one does not meet the minimum requirements for a task then effort is irrelevant."

"But her struggle would be relevant."

The Beast didn't answer, and Helen felt the Maiden had scored some sort of point, even if she did not understand the underlying meaning of the argument.

"Ascended-" Helen's voice stalled slightly as all three focused on her, but she pushed on. And if her voice was a touch squeaky, nobody commented. "Apologies for my ignorance, but it was my understanding that Lord Kaiser wished to employ my services. I do not understand why I have been granted the honor of this meeting. If I can be of any assistance to any of you, you know I will do my best, but I fear I will be unable to satisfy anyone should I not provide my full focus to one at a time."

She needed to be clear here, despite her hammering heart demanding her silence.

There was nothing more dangerous than being torn between multiple masters. Helen fell under the domain of the Road Builder and admired the Vow Maiden but if pressed she'd choose Kaiser over both, despite him terrifying her.

Too much of her Nature was tied up in his Story and the opportunity he presented was something none of the other two could match.

There was also the teeny tiny fact that the other two were less likely to eat her for rejecting them. That might have something to do with it.

"Your ambition does you credit but do not bite off more than you can chew." The Builder didn't seem offended. Maybe. Hopefully. "You are merely an observer at the moment."

"We'll leave soon." Helen almost sighed in relief at the Maiden's words but held it in. "---- said he had a surprise, so we were just killing time."

Helen’s cheek spasmed, wanting to drop her smile, as her skill saved her from hearing the Name. Knowing Tassel’s protection was much less but she could only hold her silence for the moment and pray the girl was wise enough to not say it aloud.

"Shall I remove them?" Lady Deceit offered and Helen believed the palm sized mouse-kin was gesturing at her.

One might have thought the creature was responding to the two visible Ascended but there was only one being the monster would ask for direction.

Kaiser did not answer right away and there was a beat of silence and Helen felt as if she missed a whole conversation passing between the three towering beings.

"Nah."

"I have no objection."

"Very well." The Liar… Bowed? Waved? Curtsied? Genuflected?

Lady Deceit did something to acknowledge her master’s nonverbal command. It was hard to say it with any certainty, but Helen believed the mermaid was now facing her after hearing the Ascended's responses.

"Rejoice. You have been granted permission to view the birth of a new age from the Panzoan."

"Congratulations," the Maiden's small claps, each loud enough to be a gong, were joined by a few of her entourage, though theirs produced no sound.

Helen would have considered their response sarcasm if not for the fact that it came from the Maiden.

"I am honored." Helen bowed once more but couldn't help her Nature. "And the Panzoan is...?"

"This building." He Who Paves Roads nodded with approval. "The Banker's Demigod-Work."

"Our little home away from home."

"And…" Here Helen hesitated, looking back at her niece who was being thankfully quiet. She was unsure about pressing things at this moment, aware that she was already very lucky.

Yet, this was a meeting of Ascended. One important enough that Lady Deceit called it the birth of a new age. Even if the hated creature was lying, as was her nature, if Helen missed this opportunity, she'd regret it.

"May I-"

"We'd no sooner ask you to go against your Nature than we'd go against our own." She of the Million Vows almost looked affronted at the implication.

"Once more, you have my thanks." Helen hoped her words showed she genuinely hadn't meant anything by it but given present company she'd had to ask. Since the Beast didn't disagree and his Liar didn't kill her, Helen activated her first skill.

Her desk appeared as it had always been when she used her oldest and most frequent ability. A large thing of brown wood, its surface was absolutely covered. Old quill pens lay next to a modern stylus. A clay tablet rested against the side of the 3D printer. Vellum and bamboo scrolls were covered in pencils and old bits of bone. Reams of paper propped up the most recent interface while her phonograph was buried under a small tapestry.

Opening her largest drawer, Helen removed her Stone Flake and Red Ochre stylus and set them on the sole free space of her desk and set to work.

It only took her a few seconds to complete the first drawing, a wheel, a blade, and a darkened claw arranged in a triangular formation while miniature humanoids looked up at them.

It wasn’t her most detailed work, but it was enough to get the skill going and this was as close as she'd get to depicting beings so far beyond her.

As soon as she was done, Helen held out her stylus to her side.

Yet nobody took it.

Looking behind her, Helen found her niece seemed to be paralyzed. Her pupils were dilated as she stared at the far side of the temple, her tail's fur standing on end as she peered into the Wild.

"Tassel!" Helen called out, trying to snap her aid out of whatever held her. Fear. Desire. Greed. Rage. Whatever it was, it held her in its grasp and Helen's cry went unheeded.

She was deaf to the world.

The Chronicler was about to rise from her desk to try and save her niece, but it was unneeded.

Faster than Helen could track, something emerged from the darkness of the Wild and crashed into the young woman, sending her to the ground. Something small. And brown. And very, very fast.

With only the slightest blur of brown in the eye-blink it took, the creature had returned to the darkness to become one of the countless eyes once more.

"Urrrgh," Tassel groaned in pain, holding her head as she regained her feet. Helen was glad she was still alive at least.

"Littlest Sister!" Far from being concerned about Helen's unfortunate aid, the Maiden seemed more interested in whatever hit her. "Console me. Your older sister won't hug me!"

BANG!!!

The Panzoan shook violently, Tassel falling once more and Helen would have joined her on the ground if not for the fact she was seated at her desk, as the entire edifice shook under the sudden impact. Yet they were the only two to react, everyone else watching with the expressions of those who'd expected this to happen.

"That's my girl," the Maiden laughed as she lowered the hand protecting her face and Helen bit her tongue to cry out at the sight of the ichor upon it.

Helen looked at her Flake in hopes of discovering what had happened. A new image was drawn in red. The enormous blade had changed position slightly. It was minuscule, but there was now a tiny red dot placed along the blade's edge and from the dot a hare-thin chip was carved into the blade.

More concerning in the changed image was that the dark side of the image was now framed by two enormous fangs.

There was a sound that seemed to echo from through the building, and the shaking did not lessen, it intensified.

As if something truly enormous was moving beyond the dark. Two more eyes joined Kaiser's panoply, each larger than the Ascended's already colossal forms.

"Are we fighting?" The Dragon rumbled and Helen felt her heart skip a beat in fear and Tassel whimpered.

"Sure." The Maiden was instantly on her feet with a laugh, a naginata to match her size suddenly in her hand. "It's been ages since my last challenge." Most of her entourage looked a lot more reluctant than their patron but they all drew their own weapons.

There was a great tumult in the darkness beyond the Throne of Bone as a thousand thousand beasts roared, cried, trumpeted, bleated, and called out in eager madness for bloodshed.

Even the Liar seemed eager to fight as Helen felt something invisible and far too large brush against her desk. Looking up and to the left, Helen hoped the Builder would be a voice of reason and stop this madness.

He was reading a book.

Utterly uncaring to the brewing theomachy in front of his eyes, his Stone brought him a cup of steaming tea which he took without looking.

"Tch."

Helen whipped her head around, afraid something else had happened, to find the Maiden frowning in displeasure as she sat back down on her Throne.

"You're no fun," the Ascended complained childishly.

"We do not have the time," Kaiser answered and Helen looked at her tablet to see what she'd missed but all it showed was a completely dark room.

In a moment everything had been covered by the obscuring Wild only for it to recede not even a heartbeat later without her even noticing.

"Not even for a quicky?"

"No."

"No fun~"

"Unlike you he is not satisfied with something so... vacuous."

"Ha! I've never left him unsatisfied! Ain't that right?"

Rather than reinforce the Maiden's provocation of his Liar, Kaiser turned toward the Builder, now on his second book in as many minutes.

"I will let go of the Panzoan."

"I will take care of it," answered He Who Paves Roads, not looking up from his book.

Reality flickered.

What was True ceased to be and never was.

What was False existed and always had.

In the blink of an eye, the entire building changed.

Gone was the threading of black wood through white marble and now they were things of baked brick and filigreed gold. The walls, once barren and austere excepting the indeterminable carvings were lined with bookshelves and great tapestries depicting the schematics of innumerable machines and buildings, each a wonder unto themselves.

Helen and her desk hadn't moved or changed, and neither had Tassel, Lady Deceit, or the Maiden. Yet the Builder was now seated opposite the door and facing her.

Turning her head, Helen felt her guts quaver as the wall of darkness, blacker than pitch, loomed above her. The thousand eyes did not blink as they watched her, and they looked ravenous.

They did not attack. They did not pounce on this small creature. They did nothing.

Except one.

From that void of unknowing, a bony white hand, as beautiful as it was ghastly, reached out toward her in gentle invitation.

Helen wanted to take it.

She wanted to reach out and grasp it.

Helen didn't know how she knew, but she was certain that the skeletal fingers were warm. That they’d feel like the softest velvet.

It would lead her into the void, that inviting darkness, and she'd enjoy every pleasure life could offer.

And why shouldn't she? Helen was playing a game after all. Why shouldn't she just... let go. Enjoy herself.

Her fingers intertwined with velvet bone.

Helen stepped toward that cool darkness.

A flipper pushed her back into her seat.

"Stop that," Lady Deceit ordered, shimmering from a mermaid swimming through the air to a beast-kin that Helen couldn’t identify except that it was large, had scales and fur, and was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. "You can have her later."

While those words should have concerned Helen, all she felt was a sharp and violent stab of annoyance at being interrupted before she could step behind the veil. Yet even in her state, Helen knew better than to challenge She of Tender Lies.

The creature did not miss her venom filled glare. Not that it seemed to care.

"They're about to start. Get to work," the Liar ordered.

A trunk gestured toward the gathering of Ascended. None of whom had paid their little drama a single glance, instead focusing on a new addition to the center of the room.

Across the parchment floor, an ink drawn map projected the world in three dimensions. Rivers of ink flowed around mountains rising to her shins.

That wasn't figurative as the ink was actually moving under her gaze. Green ink rippled as a great wind traveled through the Idul grasslands. Noxious purple ink drifted in the air above the poisoned north.

...Helen had no idea what was happening in the Mountains of Madness, so she diverted her attention from that part of the map.

Cities and settlements were also depicted, from the rolling hills of Calderine, the great arena of Oro, and the Library of Bones. Even the blasted remains of Leidon with their ever-burning fires were in swirls of blacks, reds, and orange ink.

It was as if Helen were observing a satellite map that she could zoom in. Only the image never actually changed, she just focused, and it was as if she were standing in the middle of the Rose Gold Dessert with great spires of thorns of pink ink.

Helen, trying out an idea, cast her gaze toward the center of the ocean.

It was easy to find the Sea of Eternal Night, a surface of black ink surrounded by the shades of blue and white of the regular ocean, yet no matter how she searched, Helen could not find their location on the mate black surface.

Either they'd been transported somewhere else, completely possible for the Ascended and their entourage, or this map wasn't perfectly exact, and they were hidden somehow.

"You improved," the Maiden praised, looking toward the southern peninsulas and her Hall. "I couldn't see inside last time."

"Thank you for noticing," the Builder accepted the compliment graciously. "I cannot help but notice that your Hall has also grown. I cannot say I approve of the architecture, however. Weapons do not make for solid foundations."

"Yeah they do. Nothing's as solid as a good shield. Besides, it's awesome."

"Helen?" Turning, the Chronicler saw Tassel holding out her hand from her position beside her desk. "I can take over."

Realizing she had been lost in her work, Helen set down the Flake and passed over her stylus as she rose to her feet, Tassel taking her seat at the Desk and continuing from where her aunt had left off.

Helen, now free from her skill, looked up at the Ascended as they towered above her.

While her eyes did swing to the Maiden and the Builder, they ultimately came to rest on the Beast, the one who'd invited her here.

The one watching her without looking at her.

While her arrival early enough to be in time for this meeting could be attributed to coincidence or accident, or even favorable winds at sea, Helen knew too much about That Which Walks The Dark to attribute it to anything but his design.

So, he wanted her here. Now. Surrounded by the Ascended.

A test, certainly. But of what? Her ability to keep secrets? Or the opposite? Perhaps her character? Or how she handled being surrounded by beings who could kill her by accident?

There were too many options, too many schemes and angles for her to consider them all.

Contradictorily, the helplessness of knowing she couldn’t predict the Beast freed her of concern. There was nothing she could do, so she might as well do what she wanted.

…Which might be the actual trap, now that she considered it.

Helen was spiraling and unless she focused on something, she’d be lost in the grandeur, in the Domains, in the sheer inhumanity of it all. So, helplessly, she could only focus on what she was here for. What she wanted.

And Helen wanted information. She wanted the Story behind all the Ascended and their entourage gathering in this hall at this time. It could very well tie into why Kaiser had reached out to her out of the blue.

The Chronicler still valued her life though, so she waited at the edge of the triangle until she was acknowledged.

For a minute, the Ascended kept their eyes on the map, taking in every detail of the flowing ink and the world they'd surpassed.

They exchanged words on banal topics, mostly the Maiden complaining about the lack of anything new and the Builder pointing out that anything new would have been announced already. They reminisced on old battlefields, on victories and losses. They bragged about their entourage, each claiming their side would produce the next Ascended.

It was almost wholesome, in a manner of speaking. Like old friends seeing each other after too long. Even Kaiser, with his inscrutable nature, traded words casually. One could be forgiven for forgetting, if only for a moment, who they were.

What they were.

Eventually though, there was a moment of silence, and the psychedelic eyes of the Beast fell upon Helen once more.

The Chronicler couldn't see anything of the being but the eyes in the dark, not even a shadow, yet somehow, she knew they were nodding her forward.

Letting out a breath, clearing her throat to make certain she wouldn't stumble over her breath, Helen stepped into the open area, standing at the edge of the Map and became part of the Story.

"As an invited representative and voice of those observing, I would like to thank you all for the opportunity to visit the Panzoan and meet you all in person."

The Maiden gave Helen an amused look and even He Who Lays Roads quirked an eyebrow at her, but she continued as if she didn't notice. It didn't matter to the audience that she also didn't know the details regarding the Panzoan and hadn't heard of it before today.

What mattered was the Narrative, the Story.

And the Story she was writing was one where details were less important than impact.

Where emotions and people and deeds mattered more than semantics.

Helen was about to begin asking questions, particularly about the nature of the meeting and the map, yet her fourth skill activated. Against her will. In order to save her life.

The Chronicler cursed the Beast. (Internally, of course. She very much did not wish to be masticated, thank you very much.)

At least she knew why he'd waited so long before acknowledging her.

He was using her own skills against her!

Helen didn't resist the change in her plan, letting the words flow from her lips as the Story demanded and pivoting in the direction the narrative wanted to flow. Timing was crucial in a good story. One missed beat and the impact was lost. She could try and struggle against it, try to delay it, to alter the structure, but doing so would be devastating for her in the long run, to say nothing of what Kaiser might do to her if she deviated from his plan.

She was a Chronicler, not an author.

The audience would just have to accept the lack of context for the moment until she could gather more at a later date.

"I am delighted to be here in this historical moment and even more pleased to be able to share with you, who are experiencing it from both worlds. Now, to everyone experiencing this, I am thrilled to be your conduit as the First Ascended once more ushers in a new age."

She knew they were waiting for a designated time. She knew Kaiser was the one who called the meeting. She knew he wanted her here. Her fourth skill, Over Arcing, inferred the rest and it was all she could do not to let her spine lock up at the words flowing from her mouth.

Helen thought she caught the Maiden saying something to the effect of 'That was mean' but her skill had her moving to stand beside the Beast, practically pressing against the curtain of darkness at the far edge of the western section of the map, at the border that cut the Black Sea in half.

"Lord Kaiser, the world cries out to be freed from its cage. We beg for the blessing of the Wild so we might revel beyond a new horizon."

The speech flowed as if she had practiced it a thousand times, yet she could no more guess the meaning as anyone else watching.

Yet Kaiser moved with practiced efficiency as if the two of them rehersed everything together. As if she were anything more than a talking mouthpiece for the Beast, delivering his message to the world.

The Chronicler realized then, trapped in the Story of her own making, exactly what he had done. The Builder might be her patron, but she, her reputation, and her actions, were now tied to Beast. There was no getting out of things now.

Yet even that concern only lasted a few seconds.

Standing there, on the brink of the unknown Wild, Helen had the perfect seat to observe as a pair of hands emerged from the wall of shadows.

They were... perfectly human. Large, generally masculine with dark skin, and well worn. They weren’t even large, not matching the towering giants the Ascended seemed to be.

They were simply regular, normal, human hands.

If Helen hadn't been standing right there, she wouldn't have felt the horror at seeing those regular human hands half fused into the Coral Crown they held.

Flesh and bone melded like wax with corals of pinks, blues, and greens.

A pinky's tip was interwoven with a polyp's spiny exoskeleton.

A small tentacle feeler strangled a thumb so tightly that it had turned black from necrosis.

As Helen watched, the Crown opened a carbonized sack as if it were a mouth, exposing the pulsating stomach within. Into this wriggling maw, feelers dragged an index finger bent completely backward and the coral's prolapsed stomach sucked it back up greedily as it closed around it.

In a heartbeat, there was no way to tell where coral began, and finger ended.

"Ooooh," the Maiden cooed in appreciation. "Can I have that?"

"It is an interesting specimen," the Builder agreed. "From the Mountains of Madness?"

"Hey! I called dibs! You know how long it’s been since I found anything that could handicap me?" The Mistress of Vows rebutted instantly. "What do ya say? I'll trade you one of my weapons. You've always liked my spear."

"An item that can affect one of us would be wasted on you." The Master of Walls sniffed derisively. "Besides, he doesn't need weapons. Instead, I shall offer full access to my Necropolis for three years."

"Boo! You're boring!"

Helen might have appreciated the sight of the Ascended heckling each other if not for the fact that she physically could not tear her eyes away from the Coral Crown. Or the feeling of this... thing dragging her Story down into it, wrapping its writhing feelers around her Nature.

"Give it to me and I'll throw in a night with me and Tomo... What? She's wanted to give him a go for a while. I gotta do my best for my girl. And I wanna see if he has any new tricks since last time."

"Your degeneracy knows no bounds. I do not understand how you conned so many to follow you. Or into your bed."

"Because I don't care about stupid rules. She's old enough to know what she wants and I'm just getting in on it. No harm, no foul."

"It is not your daughter I blame. It is her reprobate of a mother. A terrible influence on her and the world at large. One fears what other disgusting thoughts ooze out of that over-pickled muscle you call a brain."

"Hey, I'm not the one that came up with this. I'll have you know that there is a long tradition in my culture of this sort of thing."

"I am aware of the 'Chicken and Egg' fantasy. One fueled by libido and no decency. And it is illegal, I believe. Even in your country... Especially in your country."

"We're not in my country, are we?"

"No, but even here you are violating the laws of common sense and basic decency."

"I am the law."

"... Arguing with you is as pointless as ever. Let us return to the main subject."

The Builder pretended not to notice the Maiden flash a victory sign and turned to the member of the trio who had remained silent.

"Ignoring the pervert-" "Why, thank you." "I will also offer you use of my Atlas a total of three times in exchange for- Will you please not kill her? Or at least do so in such a way as to keep her mind and Spirit intact? I have use for her yet."

Helen didn’t hear any of this. Her entire being was focused on the abomination in front of her.

There was something about the Coral Crown that was just so... beautiful that she could not tear her eyes away. The way its color twisted and turned, shining in spectrums that she couldn't consciously comprehend.

How it warped bone into something resplendent.

The allure of its gentle swaying, as if flowing in a current that wasn't there.

It hypnotized her in its decadent power, enough to tug at her Story and twist the narrative however it wished.

Helen wanted to wear it.

Helen needed to wear it.

Oh, the Stories it whispered to her. They were indistinct but if she could just put it on they'd be crystal clear. Stories of love, rage, grief, and vengeance. Tales of dying gods and fractured worlds. Dead languages unutterable by anything with a throat told her of cratered moons and a madness so deep that the world itself believed it to be reality.

"If this is enough to kill her or Break her, then she is useless to me."

"But not to me. Every Omen is valuable, and she provides a rare service. I can not in good consciousness allow you to-"

"Oh relax. She'll be fine."

"...I suppose if you claim such then I have no choice but to believe you."

"Of course you should believe me. I'm always right."

"Though you are still a pervert."

"Thank you."

Helen had lost herself in the whispers carried on the currents of air, in the words inlaid on the polyps and spelled out in feelers.

It was finally too much, and she took a stumbling step forward.

Another step. The sound of waves grew louder.

Another step. The cheers of a crowd joined the whispers. Sounds of joy and jubilation, as if celebrating her approach.

Another step. Her Spirit buoyed in ecstasy as she stood before the Coral Crown, her hands rising up. Up. Up to that towering figure. Up to-

To-

To... What?

To take the crown?

From Kaiser?

Was she going to pry the Coral Crown from the flesh of the Beast itself?

Was she truly going to wrestle this... this glittering, beautiful thing from That Which Lurks?

Was Helen going to reach out and attempt to abscond with an item that all three Ascended valued? Under their very noses?

Was her greed for these... tantalizing Stories that echoed the truth of worlds long past enough to overcome her better judgement?

Was Helen going to throw everything away to take the Coral Crown?

From Kaiser?

Kaiser, who had made her?

Kaiser, who had paved the way?

Kaiser, who she'd selfishly stolen so much from already?

Kaiser, whose Story she wanted more than anything else?

Fingers stopped merely a hairsbreadth from a wriggling feeler reaching out to her, Helen activated her second Skill, Journal.

She didn't cancel the Story she'd written when leaving port two weeks ago. To do so might be fatal. Instead, she added a new line.

'Under the gaze of the Ascended, I stood unswayed from my purpose by emotion or outside influence.'

"See! I'm always right."

Helen spasmed for a heartbeat, before letting her arms fall from where they'd been reaching up to grasp the Coral Crown. Her chest rose and fell as she took great heaving breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.

The rage of the Ravager had been nothing to this. That had been tangential. Accidental. Overpowering certainly but not directed. Not… malicious.

Helen had believed she was prepared and cautious. She always was. She regularly purged negative Stories from herself and Tassel. Her woven narratives didn't even allow her to think of that which was taboo. Even when she was out of the game, she never let herself speak them lest she get in the habit and do so unconsciously in God's Nature.

Surely, she'd been cautious enough. Too cautious, some thought. It bordered on paranoia, they claimed. But Helen had believed it was enough to ensure her safety.

She'd been a fool.

She'd met the Builder in person before.

He'd been imposing, larger than life even when he wasn't the towering figure he was now, but it had been restrained. Organized. Sedentary.

It had been as if she'd been standing at the foot of a castle's walls. Large, impressive, and solid, but not a threat.

Now that castle was moving.

Not fighting, just moving.

It wasn't out to get her; it barely even acknowledged her. But it was big, and she was small, and it was moving.

Worse, it had been joined by a sheathed blade and a slavering beast, each as large as the castle and without the same restraint.

Only the Beast had its eyes on her.

People who prayed to the Beast feared three things:

Stagnation.

Weakness.

And its attention.

"I've seen what I need to see," the Beast rumbled, uncaring that his guest was reevaluating herself and the fragility of her world. "And no, I will not be trading this." "Phooey!" "You do not want it, ------. Its purpose is not to be worn or used. It is a key."

"I see! I see!" The Builder's eyes lit up as he smiled in the greatest show of emotion Helen had seen of him yet. "A key, a lock, and a crown! Truly, a fine gift you've given us. If you are correct, then I shall give you what I offered and more."

"...I don't get it," the Maiden said after a moment of thought. "Give it to me in twenty words or less."

"Crown. Enchante. Limits. Us.” He Who Paves Roads voice was slow. Deliberate. Each word came out one by one and clearly enunciated. “Break. Crown. Limits. Gone. We. Go. New. Places. Up. Down. More. Game. More. Everything. You. Idiot."

"I. Hate. You." The Mistress of Vows ground out in the same manner as the Builder. "One day, I'm gonna punch you in the face and I'm not gonna stop until you've bled out every last drop of ink."

Helen watched two of the most powerful beings in the world argue like children while a third watched on in silence.

She wasn't the only one.

Every eye in the black morass that covered Kaiser was also locked onto the two bickering Ascended, as were the Stone and Pen beside the Builder.

"Will. Not. Too. Busy. With. New. Shiny. You. Nincompoop."

While those eyes beyond the dark were incomprehensible, and the Builder's companion's practically impassive, the hordes of followers surrounding the Maiden were anything but.

They cheered, jeered, threw out crude gestures, and brandished their weapons. It was all in silence since they were just projections, but Helen was certain she saw coins changing hands and smug grins shared amongst the group. Two of the Maiden's husbands were sharing long suffering looks while the third just held his head in his hands.

"-----! This key better do something amazing or I'm going to war with this bastard."

"Nothing much," Kaiser answered simply. "Just opens the door. You can fight over who goes through first."

He was having fun, Helen realized. He'd been instigating where he could and sitting back and watching it unfold. If she couldn't see his hands, she'd have believed he was sitting in the dark eating popcorn as he instigated another global war.

Then again, it wasn't as if he was limited to two hands, so he might very well be.

Tassel had once, after quite a few drinks, confessed that half the reason Kaiser was such a popular figure in her... community was that he could fit pretty much any fetish imaginable.

Shit!

Tassel!

Helen shot a look at her niece, double-checking on her to make sure the Coral Crown hadn't ensnared her either. She needn't have worried. Tassel’s gaze was fixed on the Flake as her hands continued to draw at impossible speeds. At a greater distance, and experiencing things through the lens of Helen's skill, she'd managed to remain safe.

"Perfect. I was looking for my next war. The Crusade was barely an appetizer," the Maiden grumbled, but it was hard to take her complaints seriously with the lovely smile on her face.

"Shall I give you both a countdown then?" The Beast's laugh was at once the cackle of a hyena as it was baying of crows as he held the Coral Crown over the Map.

"On three."

"Very well. The terms?"

"Same as what we offered."

"I am not interested in you or your daughter."

Kaiser, who'd paused to watch the negotiation, raised the crown over the inky black of the Sea of Eternal Night.

"Three."

"And we ain't interested in you either. Just the material and access."

"Two."

"Then let us set the deadline for three years."

"One."

"Deal!"

CRACK!

Reality tore, cracking along the edges of Helen's eyes like a pane of glass. She shifted her eyes. She tilted her head. She turned her body.

No matter what she did, those cracks remained at the edge of her vision, just out of reach as... something around her seemed to fall away with the sound of a soft cloth being folded and the smell of brine and the feeling of a great burden being set down.

The Coral Crown was cracked down the middle in rows of jagged bone and wisps of torn flesh, yet no one had eyes for that destroyed artifact they had been coveting mere moments ago.

"Amazing." The Maiden sighed in wonder.

"...Solution... Exothermic question... Up... Délaash... accented..." The Builder, in contrast, mumbled a string of words too fast for Helen to understand.

Despite ostensibly being in a race, nobody moved as they watched the Map of the world warp and change as reality shattered like a porcelain cup.

Where there was once an uninterupted inky black of a still sea, now there was a saucer of greens, blues, browns and reds.

"Is- Is that a new continent?"

Helen barely recognized Tassel’s voice, still lost in the wonder of the large landmass floating amid a pitch-black ocean.

Helen tore her gaze from the Map, forcing herself to work against her own Story and skill, to demand the answers to the question her niece had just posed.

And froze.

The Maiden's entourage were transfixed on the image of the new continent, as were the gazes of the Stone and Quill, yet the thousand thousand eyes lurking beyond the veil of the Wild were not.

Their eyes, radiating hunger and violence, were locked upon something above the Map.

As were the eyes of all three Ascended.

It was the Maiden who started it.

A light, airy giggle. A beautiful, melodious sound which grew and grew and grew until she was cackling.

The Builder joined her, a minute chuckle that grew and grew and grew until he was laughing loudly, hands gripping the Throne of Pages hard enough to embed in the paper.

Kaiser's laughter started low, an infrasonic growl that tickled the hind brain as it grew and grew and grew until it hurt the ears and shook the body.

It barely took ten seconds for all three Ascended's laughter to fill the Panzoan, the edifice swelling with their mirth and merriment even as its other occupants quieted and shrank from the presences growing and growing and growing until there was no room for air or other life.

It was not the laughter of humor, of a joke well told.

It was the laughter of pure, ecstatic, rapturous joy.

It was the laughter of innocent children and madmen.

All at something Helen could not perceive.

-and then they were gone.

The Panzoan was once more an edifice of white marble and black wood.

The Map, the Thrones, the projections.

It was all gone.

Lady Deceit had disappeared at some point. Before or after the Ascended, Helen could not say.

All that remained in this impossible building were Helen and Tassel, standing alone under the gaze of thousand thousand eyes in that yawning darkness.

"Now," Kaiser rumbled from beyond the darkness of the Wild. A hand reached out from those depths. "What we agreed upon."

A simple, normal, human hand.

It beckoned her to step beyond the threshold and into an unfamiliar world.

It terrified Helen.

"Let us tell a Story."

Helen took that hand and the dark consumed her.

******

Tell us, Chronicler, of the Beast of a thousand thousand faces, who dwells beyond the horizon's edge.

Many are they, His crimes, which torment and twist the world.

Many are they, those minds bent to purpose and will in the footprints on yonder mud.

Many are they, those brave souls who faced the encroaching dark. Even so, the fangs of the Beast tighten on tender nape.

Write, O Chronicler, this tale of innumerable joys and inevitable deaths.

A Story Of Beasts Volume 1

AStoryOfBeasts

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Chapter 005 Goals

Chapter 004 Small Starts

Chapter 003 Sunrise Glare

Chapter 002 Night in the Hall

Chapter 001 A Foolish Man

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