“Sometimes, a killing spree is the only proper reaction.”

***The World***

***Karin***

I take the slippery dice from his fingers, no longer so sure about if this was the best – or the worst – idea I ever had. What rode me when I aspired to summon a being the adults only dared to whisper about?

When I suggested the dice, I thought it was an incredibly daring all-or-nothing move, betting on the benevolence of something that isn't known for its benevolence. Now that I am thinking about it, aren’t I purely relying on this being’s goodwill? They said that the advent of the gods created chaos like the world had never seen.

The cities in the south are said to be in chaos. Whole armies massacred by divine intervention, just because some sod called out a prayer and was heard. They are saying that calling upon the gods is to call upon a force of nature. A mortal can only hope that he isn't in the way when these beings decide to do something.

But who am I to tell? I was just helping with my mother's accounts when they enslaved us. I was never sent to the local temple for theological studies!

Normally, I would never believe the lies of my captors, but maybe they aren’t completely wrong? The people on the streets said it too. It isn't like I heard these stories only from the asshole who was blinded just in front of me.

They said that calling on powers beyond one’s control would never end well.

I weigh the dice in my hand and look up at the god. The metal feels warm and incredibly heavy for such a small object. It’s the first time that I got to hold real gold in my hands.

“Well?” the god asks impatiently. For some reason, I can tell that he doesn't see much more value in me than in the slaver who he just maimed like it was nothing.

I cast my doubts aside and turn the dice in my fingers, searching for the number twenty. Then I carefully place the dice on the ground, the twenty showing up.

“Is this a joke?” he asks, staring down at the dice, then at me as if he can read my mind, looking directly into my soul.

I fidget inside my cage, feeling the need to run, but something tells me that there is no running, even if I wasn’t locked up.

Then I touch the bars of my prison and I suddenly remember why I am here. Whatever he may do to me, it can’t be much worse than what fate had already in store for me. “You didn’t say that I have to throw the dice.”

He looks at me. “I said, let the dice decide.”

I try to correct him. “Actually you said: ‘Let the coin decide.’ And then I changed it to a dice, and you didn’t correct-” His forehead furrows, and I lose the confidence to talk back.

“A dice has to be thrown,” he insists. “Did you just change the bet to a dice instead of a coin, because you thought that I would be impressed by your reinterpretation of the bet?”

Feeling desperate, I reach out and lift the dice the barest of a millimetre, letting it drop on the spot. It wobbles for a bit but keeps showing the number twenty. “There, I threw it.”

Then he covers his face with both his hands. “I am actually not sure if I like your cheekiness, or if I should just kill you because it will save me a lot of trouble in the long run.” He sighs. “Fine! But I’ll teach you a lesson nonetheless for trying to fuck with me.”

My eyes bulge when he takes one bar of my cage in each hand and pries them apart like paper, creating a more than generous hole for me to leave the cage.

“Get out.”

I hurry to follow the order, only to be grabbed by my throat when I am halfway outside. Panicking, I flail as he pulls me out the rest of the way and throws me onto my back. I squirm, fearing the worst, but he kneels down on my chest in a not so gentle manner and places a hand on my forehead, fixing me against the dirty ground.

Screaming, I try to get help, but the streets are empty. Everyone else proved their wits by running away. They are probably still running, leaving me and the other slaves behind! Just like they didn't care when they walked past us on the streets! Fuckers! All of them! They only ever care about their own hide.

“Schhh. This will just become worse if you resist.”

“What are you doing!?” I squeal, terror creeping back into my voice and replacing the rage I just felt.

“Giving you the power you wanted.” With a gesture, the dice flies into his hand and he raises the bloody thing directly in front of my eye. In front of my face, the dice opens up almost as if it has a mouth, reshaping itself into a ghastly tool, a green light emanating from it.

I squeal like a slaughtered pig when he pushes the dice into my left eye, probably popping it in the process. A sharp pain drills directly into my brain, and for a moment it feels like I can see everything. The god’s shining aura is directly in front of me, almost blinding me to the web of infinite possibilities and energy that stretches out all around us.

And for a small moment, I understand that there is no good or evil. No black or white. No light and dark. Those are all concepts made by humans. Instead, there is just… being.

I could do nothing about this realization, about the knowledge that I now wished I had never seen. I was a fool for challenging a god.

It hurt so much, it felt like my mind was falling apart as the god forced more power into me than I was able to hold.

And so I sank into the darkness. Down into the cold web of pain that enveloped my entire being.

*Slap!*

I open my eyes and am face to face with a man. No... that's not what he is. It's the god. “What?” Something licks my cheek, and turn my head to look at the adorable white kitten... until I realize that I can see through it.

“That's not for eating,” the god chides the cat, waving a warning finger at the familiar.

Using one arm, he hurls me to my feet. Once I am standing without risk of falling over right away, he picks up the cat, petting it. “I know that you didn't have something nice to eat in days. I would also get stomach pains if I would have to eat humans all the time. Much too much fat on those.”

“I-” I croak, trying to cope with my new vision. There are numbers everywhere. “What are all those numbers? What do the colours mean?” I look down at myself and a large, green four appears on my chest.

“No clue. You will have to find out for yourself. I used a new form of clairvoyance magic on you, an experimental vision-spell I was playing around with for a while. You should be able to see magic with it, see probabilities. Maybe you will even be able to predict a part of the future? Who knows. Wild magic is a little finicky in its manifestation. You will never know the exact outcome,” he explains nonchalantly.

“But I just wanted power! What use is seeing numbers!?” I complain before I can stop myself.

Luckily, the god doesn't seem to be offended. “Well, apart from that I did some things to strengthen your soul. Either you will pop in the next few days, or you will be a first real success. Though, you probably don't really count because you were on your way to ascension anyway. Most souls fail at some vital crossroad. Ascending on your own is like rolling twenty a hundred times in a row. What numbers do you see?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, but aside from other numbers, there is a large, green four when I look down at myself. There are other numbers, smaller ones, but the large green ones are dominant. When I look at you, there is a twenty... and your cat is a nine?”

He mumbles something I don't understand. “Those are most likely power levels on a logarithmic scale.”

“Log- arit- mik?”

“Ah, feudal societies... just think of a one as the weakest. A two should be ten times stronger than the one, and a three ten times stronger than the two. Do you get it? You helped your mother doing the accounts, so you should be fine with numbers.”

I watch his gaze on me as try to do the math in my head, but I quickly give up. “That can't be.” I point at him. “That would mean that the kitten could sneeze at me and I would die!”

He rolls his eyes. “That's the problem with mortals, Fluffy. They see something and immediately put it into a labelled compartment. Like thinking that something that looks like a kitten must also be as powerful as a kitten.” He looks at something behind me. “And there are the city guards. Time for me to leave.”

“W- wait!” But he vanishes in a shower of sparks, and one of the lines of power in my vision lights up as his... essence?... is pulled along.

Turning, I check out what the god meant when he mentioned guards and true enough, a whole bunch of them is coming up the street. They are in their usual leather armour and equipped with spears. Moments later I find myself inside a half-circle, weapons pointed at me.

Blinking, I slowly raise my hands, wondering why they all have zeroes hovering in front of their chests. The god said that 'one' is the weakest.

A man who looks like he is in charge steps forward, pointing a sword at me. He is a large and broad-shouldered fellow with a big beerbelly, which immediately lowers my opinion of him. “Don't resist, heretic! You will be charged for summoning a god with the intention to injure your legal owner!”

I raise my shackled hands, showing him the chains as rage bubbles up within me. “Are you insane!? How should I hurt anyone like this!?” I point at the other slaves in their cages. “You should be saving us! You monsters! Not protecting an asshole who buys and sells people!”

“Shut up! Dirty slave.” The commander steps forward and brings his sword down on me.

I shriek, seeing my whole, short life flash by. My hands rise involuntarily to defend against the blow, but it probably just means trading an arm against my head.

Some of his numbers move against mine, as if checking something, and then his sword bounces off of me like a plush pillow. The both of us are stunned and I can’t believe that I wasn’t cut down like the peasant I am.

His face flushing red, the commander strikes me two more times before I realize that I have no problems anticipating his blows. The third time, I catch the blade and rip it out of his hands.

While he stumbles backwards, I start chuckling. “He didn’t lie. He really gave me the power!”

The commander points at me, hurrying to get behind his men. “Kill her!”

***The World***

***Ascathon***

“A bath! A real bath! We didn’t feel so clean in days, Fluffy.”

My pet voices its consent, although much less enthused.

I carry it into Studio 7, grinning from ear to ear. This time, there are much fewer deities present. There are only Nazareth, Marigold and Seria, who are standing in front of a large map of the world, which was pinned to the wall opposite the entrance.

“Guys! You are still working so late?” I grin and check out Seria's heart-shaped butt, and asset she likes to show off by wearing revealing dresses. I especially like today's blue bodycon dress. It's a mystery to me why a blonde bombshell who parades around like that wouldn't want my attention, but she sneers at me in displeasure when she turns around.

“What do you want?” she asks briskly.

“Nothing. Just a little chat with my co-workers.” I answer, unfazed by her attitude. That's simply how it is between us.

Her eyes narrow and she snorts. “You only ever try to socialize when you want something.”

“Oh, fine.” I sigh. “I just wanted to know the current status quo.”

“Hadn't you fallen asleep, you would know.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, barring my view.

“Have mercy on me. I am just some poor conscripted evildoer. Don't hate me for being as I am. It's Tjenemit's fault for forcing me into this gig. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't see or hear anything of me.”

Finally, Marigold has some mercy on me. “Truth be told, we didn't get much done before the teleportation terror started again.”

“Teleportation Terror, I like that!” I quip, and the half-orc glares at me.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, I decide to apologize for interrupting. “Sorry. Please continue.”

“As you can probably imagine, having two dozen people with demanding personalities in the same room isn't easy. We tried to sort out various conflicts between the gods, but quickly had to admit that that's impossible. It's hard to argue a point when both sides are just doing their job. In the end, we decided that Seria would play our spokesperson for now, and that we would sort out any real issues among the whole pantheon,” he finishes his explanation.

I wave my hand. “So the only real rules remain the same as Tjenemit first stated?”

“Yes,” Seria admits. “Though, I think that's a terribly inefficient way of dealing with it. Conflicts are bound to happen between deities with polar opposites and we need a way to resolve those conflicts. Tjenemit already barred us from fighting each other, which wasn't a bad idea. Otherwise, the planet would lie in ruins within days. I only think that the opposite won't work for long either. Handling every case on a first come, first serve basis also has the potential to spiral out of control.”

“Hm.” I nod. “You mean, what happens when the god of love is summoned by the neglected mistress, and then the god of hate is summoned by the betrayed wife... or something of that sort. Is one god allowed to undo the work of another? Quite the dilemma... but I think I have a solution for that.”

“You have?” Nazareth perks up.

“Yes.” I display my hands in a helpless gesture. “If I am able to do something about the problem, then I will. If I can't, then I can't. I think you guys are getting too caught up in this god-nonsense. Ultimately, that's not what Tjenemit wants from us. He wants us to identify candidates for ascendancy before they manage to awaken on their own. The Council doesn't care about a few mortals. Just see yourselves as a force of nature and do what the mortals want. Who cares if their wishes land them in the devil's kitchen?”

They regard me, not looking convinced at all.

“The other solution would be for all of us to select a few avatars who represent us and have them battle it out.” Which I already did... cause... who wouldn't do such an obvious thing when you are barred from fighting openly? Not that I want the other gods to come to the same conclusion. “But that would be childish, wouldn't it?”

Marigold pulls down the corners of his mouth, appalled. “Let's not do that.”

I clap my hands together, relieved that they are apparently above such things. Less competition for me. “Fine! Then what else is new?”

We continue our chat for quite some time until Nazareth is called away by the world enchantment, probably to show some poor sod the way home. The conversation dies down afterwards, and both Seria and Marigold decide to take care of their own business.

Which leaves me to myself. Well, there is Fluffy, but my companion can only be so much entertainment. I retrieve a pocket watch from my robes and realize that a few hours passed since I started my newest experiment. I sure took my time in the bath.

Time to check in on how the test subject is doing. So I allow my instincts to choose the right pathway and return to...

Okay...

A town no more...

Looking around, I try to find something recognizable among the smouldering rubble, the burned corpses, slaughtered guards, thrashed buildings.

It takes a few moments to take in the devastation. “Ooh, quite the busy student you are, young padawan. Who would have thought that the little girl has so much potential for the dark side?” I mumble to myself while I walk in the direction from which I sense the most power.

The girl who I bestowed some power on was quite an energetic lass. The whole time we talked, she seemed full of doubt and fear. I didn't suspect that she would really just... fucking kill everything in sight!

I step over a corpse which was torn in half, careful not to sully my shoes. A few mice scurry away from the free meat, and Fluffy perks up, following them very attentively with his ears. A little further away, a pile of corpses was erected, the bodies carelessly thrown on top of each other. Dogs and a few carrion birds are already gouging themselves the banquet.

Taking my time, I make a big circle around the obstacle. It's a futile attempt to go easy on my sense of smell. Scenes of carnage are nothing new to me, but I have no innate need to revel in the results.

I find my pupil hacking away on the squealing body of some paladin – or at least a fellow who looks like one. The silver plate armour, filled with religious symbols doesn't allow for a wide range of interpretation.

What's even more obvious, is that the girl is tired. Her swings barely cut into the man's armour, but she persists nonetheless, chopping away on him like on some piece of wood.

That's when I become witness to a minor miracle. My apprentice's victim raises his hand in a feeble gesture towards the sky and spouts some pleading nonsense about Order and God, then a sudden flash of brilliant white conjures Myrm right in front of my eyes. His arrival is accompanied by a flash of light and a wave of force which shoves the girl back.

Myrm looks around, seeming as disorientated as I am when the world enchantment decides to fuck with me. “By the nine hells! This is a massacre! Who did this!?”

He finds his worshipper on the ground, then the girl who is trying to get to her feet, and then his eyes land on me. “Youuu...”

I give him a wave. “Hi!”

“Are you responsible for this!?” Myrm walks towards me, the loose visor of his helmet bobbing a little, so he quickly adjusts it. It begs the question whether Myrm is making a habit of living inside his suit...

I consider the idea... and find it not so incongruous, given our situation of being teleported anywhere at any moment.

“Nonono. Stay right there and keep calm.” Shaking my head, I deny the accusation with vim and vigour. “I did nothing of the sort. If you would allow me to explain, then you would see yourself that this scene doesn't need your intervention. In fact, you should thank us for doing your job.”

Myrm stops haltingly, then looks back at his worshipper who points an accusing finger at the girl who is dragging her sword over the ground, towards him. “D- D- Demon! She massacred everyone!”

Myrm turns around to intercept my experiment, but I step forward and stop him by holding onto his shoulder. “You should really know the whole story before you intervene.”

Surprisingly, he turns around and listens while I explain the chain of events to him. For the time being, we ignore the two mortals who are trying to kill each other. It even looks like we can come to a mutual understanding, right up until he shakes his head.

“You are probably right that the girl has reasons to behave as she does, but if you aren’t lying, then she needs help!” He points at me. “Instead of helping her, you gave a mentally unstable individual a gun and let her loose among unarmed people! You are the worst person I ever met! I should kill you and-”

The head of the paladin bounces off Myrm’s helmet and the both of us turn our attention to the girl and the beheaded corpse to her feet.

“Fuck off, whichever god you are! I already got everything I ever wanted and if you were good for anything, then you wouldn’t appear to help people who enslave others! Do you have any idea what they did to us? I had to when they... Mom... when they...” She starts sobbing inconherently.

“You failed to help your worshipper...” I mumble. But then again… the guy was just some mortal. Not someone who deserved any attention.

Even beneath his helmet, Myrm looks almost offended. “I never said I would. And if you aren’t lying and telling me a whole shitload of crap, then these people are misguided in their beliefs.” He steps towards the girl. “Come with me. I will bring you to a place of healing where they can deal with illnesses of the mind.”

Surprising even me, the girl spits at Myrm. Then, before the shocked god of Order can react, she stabs her own blade into her pregnant belly, twisting it around in a manner that can only result in death. Reaching inside herself, she pulls, creating a horrible mess as her innards and a baby spill out of her.

On a scale of gruesome ways of committing suicide, I silently applaud and give the girl a ten of ten.

Myrm reaches up, trying to cover his mouth, but the visor is in the way. “Child, what did you do?” Myrm is in an instant at her side, casting an ineffective healing spell. “Why is my magic not working?”

I scratch the stumps of my beard, unsure of what to say. “I suppose it’s because you are obviously really bad at healing magic. No, you outright suck at spells! How did you become a god? No, forget it. Are you sure that you are a god of light? Ah, and my own spells might interfere with yours. I laid a pretty dense set of experimental enchantments on her.”

Myrm lowers the child to the ground, almost motherly, even as the girl takes her last breath.

“This is all your doing.” He looks around at the ruins. “You are a monster. Don’t you feel anything at seeing this?”

I survey our surroundings, indulging Myrm.

Then I shrug. “They are just mortals. Do you care about the ants beneath your shoes?” I look down at my experiment. “But if you really want to know what I feel, I am intrigued. I actually might like the girl! She has guts!” Stepping closer, I take the corpse out of Myrm’s arms, despite sullying myself. Then I walk away.

“What are you going to do? Where are you taking her?”

Turning around, I regard my opposite. “You still don’t understand why the other gods are so afraid of my soul magic?” I grin. “It’s because even death is no escape. Not for my minions, and certainly not for my enemies.” Winking, I take a pathway.