Bel, the God of Broken Things, swore furiously at the scrying pool.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said. He watched as that Druid — Theo something — was lifted into the air and choked out, his legs kicking.

“Idiot,” Bel said, “the point was to find their camp, then go and regroup. Not listen to the assassin moan about his shitty life. Fuck!”

He had a lot riding on Jessica White. If she died…

He didn’t want to think about it. He took another sip of his ambrosia-laced wine.

“Cheer up, old chap,” said a voice next to him.

Bel turned to see Tezzet standing in the marble hall next to him. Tezzet — the God of Spontaneous Invention — mercifully held another goblet of wine. He passed it to Bel, who drained his first glass, banished the goblet, and then took the second.

“Tough luck on that one,” Tezzet said. Tezzet, God of Spontaneous Invention, took the form of a middle aged human with dark brown skin and course grey hair. He wore robes of blue and crimson, laced with gold filigree that looked like wiring. Around his wrists, golden bangles set with gears and knobs glistened. Bel liked Tezzet — he was a lesser god as well, and not nearly as pompous as the rest of them. He’d come to power through Artificery, rather than combat. Bel, similarly, had come to power through Mending.

All around them, scrying pools stood raised in the Hall of Games. Gods milled about, drinking ambrosia-wine or eating food brought by servants. The Hall of Games on Mount Ardith was a sprawling marble atrium, replete with plush ottomans, lounges, and scrying pools to watch the Arena. Outside the atrium, covered walkways gave views of the entire Arena Hex, where their recruits battled mercilessly. Halls branched away from the Hall of Games into the greater Mount Ardith, a palace built — quite literally — for Gods.

“Don’t be so smug, just because your pick had the brains to stay behind,” Bel said.

Tezzet smirked. He waved his hand over the scrying pool, and the water flickered. The image of Theo being strangled vanished, replaced by Tezzet’s recruit, Blake Hansen. He sat in the dark, in the middle of some Anezian ruins, watching over his party member sleep. He quietly practiced some magic, making sparks fly between his hands.

“Yes, I quite like that one. He’s not as far along as some of my other recruits, but he’s quite sly. I have high hopes for him.”

Bel frowned. Of the five recruits he’d managed to bring to the Arena, two were already dead. Only Jessica and two others remained, and she might be dead soon enough, the way things were going. If he lost all of his recruits, not only would the mana he invested be gone — a shockingly high amount, to sponsor an entrant in the Arena — he could also kiss his spot in the new Pantheon goodbye.

“I thought we had a good thing going, with these three,” Bel said, taking another swig of his wine, “the love triangle and all. Thought the Gamemaker might cut us some slack for entertainment value.”

“The Gamemaker works in mysterious ways,” Tezzet said, “and all is not lost yet. Look at poor Theo, following his love into peril. That’s romance. That’s entertainment. Perhaps this is all part of the Maker’s plans.”

Bel frowned. He had never met the Gamemaker, naturally. In terms of power, a lesser god like Bel was closer to a mortal than to the Gamemaker himself. So he had no idea what the Gamemaker was playing at. What he did know was that nothing in the game was an accident. Even with the rigid rules, an unseen hand moved everything, even the gods themselves.

“I’m tired of this,” Bel said, sighing. He put on an air of nonchalance. “Let’s get something to eat, shall we?”

Tezzet frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have the appetite. I just watched one of my recruits eviscerated by a laceration spell. One of Leona’s recruits.”

Bel looked around the room, scowling. Leona, Goddess of Spilled Blood, stood with her posse of lesser gods around another scrying pool. She took human form was well, a beautiful woman in a black toga, edged with silvered bits of armor. Her fingers were capped with long blade-like metal, like claws. The only thing non-human about her were her eyes, which were slitted and feline. Those cat eyes stared at him, smirking. She lifted her goblet of wine, wrapped in those silver claw-blades, and dipped her head to him as if to say: Checkmate.

Leona had also sponsored the entrance of McClain, the assassin who now held Jessica captive. He wondered if that was intentional on her part — there were ways that the gods could influence the Arena, although the mana expenditure was intensive. He wouldn’t put it past her to set her dogs on Bel’s last recruit. Bel and Leona had history together, after all.

“Then how about wine,” Bel said, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He set off towards a servant — some small cat-like hominid — carrying a tray of wine. Bel liked wine. He liked wine a lot. In fact, there were few things he liked more. Being a god was dreadful business, usually. Nothing but mana to gamble away and time to kill. None of the other gods seemed to take this as badly as Bel. They whiled away the centuries building new planets and realms, serving in Pantheons, or warring with other gods. They devoted themselves to building enough power to become a True God: omniscient, omnipresent, second only to the Gamemaker himself.

Bel had never cared much about that. He liked to fix what was broken, and that had, rather by happenstance, led him to godhood. Levels ceased to matter him, the last few hundred years. Nothing seemed to bring him joy. Not for the first time, the God of Broken Things wondered if he, himself, was broken.

He moved to the cat-folk server and grabbed a glass of wine. When he turned around, Leona was standing there. Beside her was Eryax, God of the Bullfolk, with his minotaur’s head. He wore iron armor across his muscled torso, and a golden nose ring in his septum. To her left was Fgur, Goddess of Death Dreams, an elf-like god in black robes who floated a few inches off the floor.

“Bel, darling, so good to see you,” Leona said. She leaned in for a hug, and Bel reluctantly accepted. It was better to pretend friendliness.

“Leona. Good tidings,” Bel said. He forced a smile.

“It’s been centuries since we last spoke, hasn’t it?” Leona said, “tell me, how fares your realm?”

Bel frowned, looking around the room for Tezzet, hoping he’d come to rescue him.

“If I recall,” Eryax drawled, “Bel does not have a realm.” Fgur smiled with a mouth of sharp teeth, silently laughing.

Leona blinked, feigning surprise. “Is that so? Whyever not? Surely a god of your age…”

“I prefer not to be tied down,” Bel said, smiling through closed lips, “it’s so tedious, having to upkeep a civilization. It’s much more fun to pop around and see what all my friends are up to.”

He sipped his wine and looked around the room again.

“Well in that case, you simply must come to Leonax. I would love to host you. The Leonians are reaching the Classical Era now, and they finally make good wine. You simply must come.”

“Well you know I’m quite busy, schedule booked through the end of next century at least…” Bel started.

“Oh but you must make time. It’s been too long. But if you are strapped for mana, I can certainly support you traveling to my realm…” Leona said. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I should be perfectly fine,” Bel said. He did not like what she was implying. Sure, maybe he was not as powerful as he used to be. But he could very much travel to any realm he wanted. “Especially after my new ward emerges victorious from this Arena. The prize is substantial, as you surely know.”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” Leona said, “but surely you don’t mean the ward that is currently the captive of my assassin?”

Bel smiled again, but his patience was thinning. “There are many ways to win a Arena, Leona. Not everything in the Great Game is about combat.”

“Of course. Why, I remember our Arena like it was yesterday. Don’t you?”

His face froze. He had wondered how long it would take for Leona to bring up their Arena. On the whole, it was unheard of for two gods to emerge from the same Arena. There were trillions of sentients in the Multiverse, and only a few billion gods. But despite their separate, winding paths to power, they had both achieved godhood.

“I remember,” Bel said. He tried not let the smile slip from his face, but hatred burned in his eyes.

“Oh, what a time. And there was that little friend of yours… what was her name?” Leona said. Her catlike eyes sparked.

“Alla,” Bel said. Alla. His one true love.

Slaughtered by Leona.

She sighed. “Such a shame. So pretty. Well, best of luck to you and yours in the Arena. I’d tell my ward to let your little healer go, but you know direct interference is strictly forbidden… but say, why don’t we make this dreary little Arena a little more interesting?”

Bel spoke through gritted teeth. “What did you have in mind?” he said.

“Well since you’re so flush with mana, how about a little wager? If any of your recruits make it to the end of the Arena, I’ll give you… 1,000 Divines. That should be enough to set you up with a nice little realm, or to buy your way into a Pantheon.”

Bel swallowed. A thousand Divines of mana. One Divine was enough to make someone a lesser God. Bel had only about a hundred Divines to his name. The prize for having a recruit survive the Arena was about three hundred divines per recruit, a dazzling amount of money. A thousand Divines would certainly cement his place in a Pantheon, or even allow him to create his own planet to rule over. How did Leona even have that mana to spend? Her realm must be incredibly profitable.

“And if they don’t?” Bel said.

She shrugged. “Simple. If they don’t, then you owe me a thousand Divines. And if you can’t pay…” she smiled, “well I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Bel knew what that meant. If his mana shrunk to less than one Divine, he’d become mortal again. And if he owed her mana on top of that, then he’d spend the rest of his mortal life in servitude to her, trapped in her realm. He shuddered to think what that might mean.

But still, the hate inside him burned hotter than his logic. He wanted those Divines, if only to hurt Leona. If he could use them to fight back against her, avenge Alla…

“Deal,” he said. He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. The words of gods had power; they couldn’t be taken back so easily.

Leona smiled, and Bel saw her sharp canines glinting in the light of day.

“Lovely,” she said, “Good old Bel, always up for a fun time.” Then she turned around, shrugged a shoulder and looked coyly at him. “And if you ever get lonely, thinking about your dead little friend… you know where to find me.” She winked, and then strut away, her band of gods following behind her.

I hate that woman, Bel thought, gritting his teeth. He tossed back his wine, grabbed another from the catfolk servant, and then returned to Tezzet.

“Thanks for rescuing me from Leona and her merry band of assholes,” Bel said. He didn’t bring up the deal to Tezzet. Not yet. His head still swam from the stupidity of it.

“Sorry, sorry — it seems that your friend Theodore is about to do something interesting,” Tezzet said. He was staring intently at the scrying pool, where Theodore now appeared, tied up next to Jessica. But pure green energy floated around him, emanating out from the scrying pool itself.

“That’s… a lot of power for level two…” Bel said, “who sponsored this guy?”

Tezzet shook his head. “I tried asking around. No one is owning up to it. Whoever did sponsor him, they’re keeping it under wraps,” he said.

Bel frowned. His Wisdom was one of his highest essences, which allowed him to glean information from the depths of the Multiverse itself. He might be able to see deeper than even Tezzet himself, who relied on Intelligence. He pulled up his multidex in front of him, a glowing menu of runes, and searched for Theodore Cross in the roster.

Theodore Cross

Druid

Level 2

Human

Sponsor: DEITY UNKNOWN

Bel blinked, looking at the error message. Very rarely were there aspects of the multiverse that were so blatantly hidden from him.

“What did you find?” Tezzet said.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Whichever God summoned him into the Arena, they’ve done a good job concealing it. They’re just listed as DEITY UNKNOWN.”

Bel closed his multidex and looked at the strange Druid, swelling with power. He thought of his deal with Leona, and looking at the mysterious Druid, saw potential.

I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, Theodore Cross.