The crowd was restless. Whispers were shared. Banters and wandering thoughts sought to calm the atmosphere. “I am sorry. I apologize for not earning your trust with respect to Aidan Alastair. I don’t yet understand the circumstances behind why this happened to him. I reassure you that I will consider no compromise with regards to Aidan’s freedom. His liberty in thinking, and protection from bodily harm shall be upheld, but for if his actions prove that such is not possible.

I entreat you to be considerate towards this man. I entreat you to bear with me.”

A woman with a brooding look said, “You speak well. I believe you.” She had her arms crossed, while giving her verdict. More people joined her affirmation. One such person was a man with a distraught face. He wore a brown shirt and had fervent eyes. Some people sat on the fence, unsure as to what to do. Elliot had claimed to have had impaired legs. Thanks to the goddess, his legs appeared to be no longer impaired.

“Why am I not surprised to be here?” a Japanese-looking guy said. He had asked what the summoning was all about. He had unruly hair. “This Aidan is an ungrateful person.”

“She lost herself the devil,” a man said, his smile bleak.

“I am glad for everyone’s comprehension and kindness. This makes me happy from the bottom of my heart.” Ambrosia sighed. Her hair turned auburn. Auburn would be the color of burnt orange. A huge deer appeared beside her. The deer looked like a beast of solitude. It seemed to possess qualities, as of a demon, as of a divine being. The deer was big, but not too big. Its presence was monstrous in the throne hall. The deer afforded Ambrosia a rare sensuality which her kindness never betrayed. She looked wild and dangerous.

The man’s smile became an inverted ‘U’.

“I am the goddess of nature, and of water. As most of you know, you are already dead in your original world. I have summoned you to this world to give you a chance to take form and become alive again in your original world.

I want you to help me protect the Thesis nation. In this process, you might need to defeat demon gods in battle. Eliminating demon gods forms part of our bigger wars. I will tell you the details on the demon gods at a suitable time. You have five years to help me in this process. As long as you don’t bring undue harm to my people, as long as you don’t violate my nation’s laws, you are free. You can pursue any gastronomic endeavor. You can aspire to marry anyone you want, with honest efforts. You are free to own a castle. If you help me, I will be happy.”

“Thank God,” said Orion. Tears streamed down his cheeks. To his side, the guy who had identified himself as an equal opportunity wolf, said, “I thought you were a nihilist.”

“Is it your problem?” returned Orion.

“Just saying.” The other guy looked the other way.

A few members of the crowd walked forward with eager eyes, then stopped. “These sociopaths always be ruining everything,” said a woman with pleasant curves and a big bosom. She wore a blue shirt on a blue tank top, with black pants. The blue tank top had red flower patterns that cupped one side of her breast.

The woman the blue-tank person looked at shrugged. “That’s anyone’s guess, Erika.”

Erika looked at the person fixedly. “You sound like a nice woman. Are you American or Asian?”

“I’m Asian,” she said, noting disdain in Erika’s eyes. “My name is Naomi Aoshima.” Some of the men with eager eyes looked in Erika’s direction. Erika felt scornful. “And you? Where are you from?” asked Naomi, intimidated. Naomi wondered where Ami had gone to.

Erika said, “I’m from Brazil.”

“Mexico is worse. You will find graveyards at various conflict sites, on top of the border issues,” Naomi said.

“Tell me about it,” Erika laughed. She rubbed her left eye with her left index finger.

The woman with a brooding look said, “Is there internet here? My laptop got transferred over along with my body.”

“You mean wide-access communication? I’m afraid you will have to micro-setup an apparatus to connect your laptop to our network.”

“Fair enough,” she said. She wore a one-piece dress with a cuffed collar. It was plaited and more black than white. She matched it with dark-gray slacks. The dress had a buttoned up flap at the front, almost like a strait jacket, but floored like a skirt, to allow easy movement. She held a blazer on the crotch of her elbow. “Let me confirm the contract. I, Demeter Ford, vow to annihilate the demon gods for the sake of humanity.”

A steel-blue light blossomed forth from Demeter’s being. The crowd went silent. “Congratulations, Demeter Ford. You have been blessed by the will of the gods of science and metal. I’m sure your class title will be something uniquely strong. I look forward to witnessing you in action.” Ambrosia smiled.

“Thank you. I hope it won’t take long for you to do so. Please continue.” Demeter checked her wrist.

“I shall.” Ambrosia revealed a board beside her. It presented a ranking chart.

NAME

RANK

CLASS - LVL

AGE

HIGHEST ACCOMPLISHMENT

Walter Wilbur Stanford

1

Draconic Knight - 5

41

Conquered the Eastern city ‘Eldawn’

Emmanuel Song

2

Phantom Templar - 5

39

Assassinated dozens of kings and ministers of the Collard Empire.

Norman Fox

3

Blue mentalist - 6

45

Learnt the ultimate magic of a [night shade] draconic pack leader.

Clarice Godwin

4

Survivalist - 5

33

Conquered the first dungeon of ice attribute

Linda Eisenberg

10

Spirit summoner - 2

25

Summoned a familiar of the rank of a LVL 3 mid-boss.

Elliot Brave

11

The Pilgrim - 0

23

Became worthy of the unique class [the pilgrim]

Demeter Ford

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

12

The Armada (Original) - 0

25

Received the blessings of the god of metal, and that of Natura.

???

13

?? - 0

??

???

The ranks 5 through 9 were not disclosed. Each name glowed with a different color.

Blue was for Norman Fox and Linda Eisenberg. Blood-red was for Emmanuel Song and Clarice Godwin. Golden was for Walter Wilbur Stanford and Elliot Brave. Dark amethyst was for Demeter Ford. Black was for ‘???”.

Each hue was entrancing. Linda Eisenberg’s name was highlighted. The board projected a woman’s profile, alongside those of Demeter and Elliot. Upon closer look, it was observed that the profile of Aidan Alastair appeared. It was blurred, like a ghost.

“This guy has not committed himself to any vow,” observed the guy who had asked if the status table was game-like. He straightened his back, no longer inclined to appear tired.

“The heroes who have not yet activated their powers, and who have not made significant achievements, are not shown on this board,” supplied Ambrosia.

“Armada, huh?” Catherine said, with some awe.

“What’s a survivalist?” mused the fandom woman. She looked bummed.

“Let me explain this table properly. This is the hero’s achievement board. Any grand hero who leaves his mark on it will have his life recorded. This record will allow him to serve as a paragon to inspire the people of all ages. The people projected are those heroes currently present in the capital city of the Thesis nation. You will see the blue-haired Linda Eisenberg. You will see Elliot Brave, who is the pilgrim, and then Demeter Ford. The capital city’s name is ‘Schema’,” explained Ambrosia.

Linda Eisenberg was pretty, with azure-colored hair. She wore a brown attire, which gave a sense of cleanliness. Linda’s eyes were lit up like a cat’s. In a way, Linda looked fantastical. Half the room accepted the way she looked with ease. The other half looked at her like they were looking at a CGI painting, a computer-generated imagery.

“You can look forward to meeting your fellow heroes,” Ambrosia said, with a smile. “To the extent of my knowledge, they are nice people.”

The ‘Lacan’ guy, who had asked if they were implanted with some kind of device, accosted Demeter. “What do you think is wrong with Aidan? By the way, my name is Basil Foster.”

“Apollo’s shadow wants his own movie,” Demeter said, with nonchalance.

“Didn’t this guy watch Venom?” Basil pondered.

“We live in a crazy world, bro,” said someone breaking into the conversation. His hair was bleached to a dirty blonde. “We’ll get more from where this one came from. Sure, I can look at you and Demeter, but in the meantime, you can’t even light a cigar in peace. Some kids pretend to be inhuman gods,” he punched Basil’s chest lightly. Basil said nothing.

“Excuse me,” Catherine said.

“What’s wrong?” Ambrosia asked.

“Why can’t you defeat the demon gods by yourself? Are you the only good god left?””

“I am technically the last god alive. I am not strong enough to defeat them on my own.”

“Thank you, goddess. Have you considered giving birth to a child through a union with a hero? The child might inherit your abilities. Am I right?” Catherine seemed used to talking to people with higher authority than her.

“That would seal the child’s fate. I believe both of us have been presented with tough choices. I might lose my powers if I become the consort of a human. It has been decided that the risk is too high.”

“I am sorry,” Catherine said with earnestness, her hand at her heart. “Is it the case that summoning can’t happen without your powers as a goddess?

“It’s complicated. I would say the efficiency of summoning would significantly decrease. I would stand to lose power. Even if two children inherit my powers, along with that of a hero, they are still significantly more liable to – I prefer not to say it on the first day.”

“I see,” Catherine said. “Thank you very much. I hope it was not too presumptuous of me to ask these questions.”

“No, not at all,” Ambrosia said.

“Excuse me, but how old are you?” followed up another person.

“I am twenty-one years old.”

“You must be jesting. I am five years older that this self-proclaimed goddess,” the person said, addressing the crowd. His tone had a dramatic ardor to it. “Why do we all quietly accept that this Ambrosia is a goddess, that she is some supreme magical being only found in books?” No one answered. “Hmph, I don’t know about this so-called Thesis nation. I don’t know how this godforsaken world works. Ambrosia could just be a henchperson. You hear?” The person refused to meet Ambrosia’s eyes.

“In the first place, why don’t you make heroes out of your own people?” asked another man. He wore a red, striped shirt on black pants. “You probably intend to curse us all into servitude, like you did with Aidan if you don’t get what you want,” he spat.

“You are questioning basic human nature, bro,” said the man with the gray sweater. He was the one who had talked about not appreciating being sold out without a say. “Who should trust you as well?”

“Why are you butting in?” asked the man with the red shirt.

“I’m Hernan Ernesto. What are you guys up to?”

“Can’t you stop it?” Elliot said, stepping toward the person who had asked about Ambrosia’s age. Elliot’s hair turned white.

The man covered his crotch and stepped sideways. “I see, I see. I understand you, now.” He faced the crowd again. “The so-called pilgrim is going to hurt innocent civilians. How nice, isn’t it?”

Elliot became uncertain. Something appeared behind the speaker, making him unable to move. “Hugh!” shouted the goddess. The apparition disintegrated. The beast in question had been wrapped in shadows. No one saw what it was.

“She won’t harm us!” remarked another voice in the crowd.

The man took over, “it seems the devil has not left your side.”

“I see a redundant fool. Just how are these people supposed to be innocent civilians?” muttered Demeter, walking deeper into the crowd. “I give up.” Imperceptibly, two men followed her. Elliot shortly slipped along.

The exaltations went on.

***

“These guys are seeking mutually assured destruction without earning the local’s trust,” Demeter said with disdain. “They’ve got nothing to offer.”

“Or they think they’ll conquer Ambrosia,” Basil said.

“That would be rash,” said the blonde, maintaining a placid face.

Demeter pondered over their input. “You may protect those accountable. You got any answer to give for this situation, Elliot?” she asked.

Elliot ruffled the back of his head. “I can trust Ambrosia’s leadership. Patience would be a good choice here.” The blonde approached a girl. He boasted that she could rely on him. Elliot crossed his arms and turned some degrees towards Demeter. He tilted his head slightly down and held Demeter’s eyes. “Tell us what to do.”

“I have an idea. But we keep observing the situation,” Demeter said. “Thank you for your insight, Elliot,”

The voices got more rowdy. “Why do I have to fight for you? Return me home right away!” The man waited. Nothing happened to him. This riled up the crowd.

The voice of the first rabble-rouser was heard. “That’s right! Bring me the finest women and food.” The man looked down. “I’ve been thirsty for mere water since we got here.” He looked at Ambrosia. “We are not your slaves. We deserve better. If you do that, I will consider saving your little country.”

“I hear a loser, with diapers,” said Hernan. “Nobody should believe this guy.”

“Why don’t you stop behaving like a baby?” said a woman to the rabble-rouser. She wore a black sweatshirt, on purple skirts. “Didn’t you hear the goddess? You are free to work your way up!”

“Careful, Blake!” a woman said. She looked African, and had patchy, caring eyebrows. Blanche would not have it. She stood firm.

“I’ll pretend I did not hear that, woman. Don’t take their side!”

“Excuse me, do you know the meaning of gratitude?”

The man laughed. “Come closer and talk to me like a man!” Blake fell for the provocation. She came closer and stared at him defiantly. The man raised his hand toward Blake’s face. A switchblade appeared at Blake’s neck. “You should watch who you get behind, sweetheart.”

Blake looked at her captor. “I’m an equal opportunity person,” said the blonde.

“Well done, Owen,” commended the rabble-rouser. He dusted off his knees.

“I thought you had a plan,” Elliot told Demeter.

“It won’t work now,” Demeter said. She hung her head in shame. The man urged everyone to side with him. Seven men went over to him. Among these men were the second guy who had walked Aidan to his confinement and the ‘hottie’ person. A Chinese woman and a Middle-Eastern woman were brought along with them. Dalton came over, followed by a few more. Naomi looked at the procession with silent contempt.

A man with a black t-shirt walked to Owen. “Give up. Our side has the effective power.”

The rabble-rouser looked at Owen . He indicated toward Owen with his eyebrows. Owen drew blood. “There,” the man said, victorious. “You may obey us effectively now.”

The man scratched his head. “I fail to understand your point.” the blonde drew more blood. “My name is Nasseer Callahan. My side may obey you as they please. That said, you seem to want pleasure beyond pleasurable talk.”

The rabble-rouser examined the blood dripping from the blade, onto Blake’s breasts. “It is more distasteful to talk to you, than to hear screams. Are you a monster?” he asked.

“Do you even need to ask?” replied Callahan.

“Is that a question?” returned the man.

“Indeed. No – are you a monster?” Callahan asked. He spoke from his nose.

The man became perplexed. He seemed to have lost his wit. His eyes widened. “I assume we both are monsters.” Callahan did not reply. “Well, I’m glad. I hate it, but both of us can torture each other, mind and body, till hell does us apart.”

Callahan looked to the side. “Not interested.”

“Wait! Have you ever watched Tokyo Ghoul?” Jung frantically asked the rabble-rouser.

“What the fuck?” said someone loudly in response to Jung.

“I don’t know what show you are telling me, kid. I watched Lucifer. But that does not matter, for fuck’s sake!” Jung lost heart and stepped back. “Let’s compare our achievements. I’ve killed two women and burned three houses.”

“I abetted a thousand people to hate me,” said Callahan.

The man waited. Callahan did not continue. “Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like that!” He groped the breast of Blake. Callahan turned and walked toward the goddess. “Sneaky bastard. You want your share of fun, huh?”

From Callahan’s perspective, the goddess looked out of it. After recalling her familiar, Hugh, Ambrosia had said nothing. She had a death stare to her eyes. Her body was wrapped in black mist. It was a peculiar kind of combustion, if she was going to burn up. Elliot, Catherine, Demeter, and the remainder of the people blocked Callahan’s path. “We need a few women to brute-handle this goddess.” Callahan stopped and looked sideways, “by the way, I’ll be honest. If I don’t go down, she doesn’t go down as well.”

Ambrosia screamed. The man looked in her direction. Owen casually removed his switchblade from Blake’s throat. Dalton punched the man in his face. “You should watch who you get behind, dumbass.”

Elliot took it as the signal for ‘carte blanche’. He transformed his body, as he ran towards the men with astounding speed. Elliot pulverized the first person who came to match up to him. The man slid close to the end of the hall. The man croaked and a mist of black and green exuded from his body. “I think he will live,” Demeter told Elliot.

“I should tell him,” Orion said. He walked toward the rabble-rouser, angry. Before he could, Blake got there first and kicked the rabble-rouser’s crotch. She caught Owen, the blonde, staring at her. She held his gaze. Blake broke eye contact and went back to her friend. The hero who had walked Aidan to his confinement and the ‘hottie’ man surrendered. In particular, the latter said, “no more street-clout.”

In a corner of the throne hall, the Japanese guy looked at the ceiling. The ceiling was high. The ceiling was a sheer white. It was tinted with colors of light. He adjusted his eyes to look at the people around him. He felt like he would faint. The mist around the goddess had intensified. Hernan seemed to wait; Dalton held himself back with artful discipline. There was no art in the black wave which followed.

Demeter and Elliot were left standing.