A headache struck so powerfully that Alan thought his skull might crack. Lightning bolts rattled inside his mind, then torturous burning fire, drowning, everything in rapid succession. It was confined to his cranium like a spiked ball thrashing to get out. He grunted as he held his hair.

“Hold on, noble Alan. All of Mother’s experiences are flowing through you,” Yogi’s voice echoed. “Many deaths, many kills. Protecting her family. Defeating warriors as she was bred to. She is the most honorable of the Borai. There is much to take in.”

Alan’s vision went black more than once, but he used the comfort of his friend to remind him where he was—a mile away from Yogi’s home, in Fistel’s Valley. This all started when he swapped his Title for Ultimus, daring to escape into his new realm.

God, what a mistake.

Another four minutes passed—Alan counted the seconds—before the pain finally subsided like a pulled tooth. It was over. Plucked. At least he hoped.

Alan took a deep breath to make sure the shaking stopped. He’d liken it to one of his trances, only instead of being a spectator, he was living an experience in fast-forward.

“I feel it now.” Alan looked at his hand, a shivering energy quaking to get out. “I can portal to her realm.”

“Your realm now, Alan.”

“My realm,” he tested the idea, then peered up to his companion. “Ready?”

“I am.”

“Oh, and, Yogi.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for restoring my faith. After Lucius… things were getting a little grim.”

“There are many who believe in you, noble Alan. I am but one.”

“An important one.”

“Well in that case, you are welcome.”

Alan nodded and faced forward, willing the energy out of his hand. The stream didn’t feel like a normal emotional Saro calling, but rather an amalgamation of energy already alive with purpose.

He pinpointed it into his finger and traced a wide circle, like he’d seen Flint do before.

What would that zany Wizard think of me now?

The portal opened to a view of snowy mountaintops on the horizon, paved by endless green pastures leading to it. It wasn’t a damning hell like he worried it might be. Not at all.

“Looks inviting enough.” Alan arced an eyebrow and stepped through.

He embraced the loss and reformation of his body with grace. For his first portal, it sure was seamless. His eyes opened again with less tension behind them. A warm breeze tickled his nose like he remembered at a park in his childhood. There were no threats here—just a blank canvas filled in by his mind.

Welcome to your realm. The universe has designated beginner prompts. Accept them with grace.

Name your domain by designating one, speaking it aloud, and repeating it again for confirmation. So too shall it be done.

Ultimus Titleholder, comprehend the following: although Origin souls may now be reborn into this realm, it is unlikely without a god’s overwatch…

Do you wish to sacrifice your vessel to the confines of the universe, only to be called upon again under the declaration of realm wars or other extreme callings while otherwise existing as an all-seeing, omnipotent being tasked with governing this realm and understanding the ways of the universe?

Do you accept godhood?

“I am absolutely not ready for that.” Alan shook his head.

You have rejected the invitation to oversee your realm as its god. Since you have decided to retain your vessel for the time being, you will be awarded only limited creational and governing powers.

“I can live with that.” Alan glanced at Yogi as he materialized through the portal, followed by Ria.

Yogi looked around confused. “Who else is here?”

Alan pointed to his head. “Just prompts. They want me to be a god of the realm, like that crazy guy in Strangey Town.”

Yogi made a disgusted frown.

“I agree. I like the way I am,” Alan said, drawing his Soul Collector. By thinking it, he unlocked the blade and syphoned enough contained anger to unleash multiple souls with one swipe. Afarus and Durger both emerged fully etched in black smoke.

“Sir Alan, where are we?” Durger stared up at the clear sky.

“You’ve ascertained a realm.” Afarus smiled in disbelief.

“New home base, everyone,” Alan said, zipping his portal shut.

“This is far out of my skillset.” Durger shook his head. “I told you… you would go beyond comprehension.”

“Oh, stop blowing the kid’s head up.” Afarus tightened his wraps. “I had my own domain once. ’Til I lost it to a conqueror. Beware of scouts in Ojin now, Alan.” He let his blade drag against the dirt, testing it. “Hm.”

“What?” Alan turned to him.

“Your thoughts are far less dark than I anticipated.”

Kaw! Ria seemed to agree.

“Well, I am kind of coming off a high. I was just accepted by the mother of the Borai. And I don’t know if you guys noticed, but the big bear is still with us.” Alan presented Yogi. “Maybe if I had been granted the realm after Lucius betrayed me for the second time, things would be a bit darker.”

“Hmph. There’s still plenty of time for that,” Afarus assured.

Alan didn’t like Afarus’ cryptic message, but he was even more curious of what he meant before. “What did you mean by my thoughts not being dark? Are you saying my thoughts can alter the terrain of the realm?”

Afarus licked his teeth, peering in the distance with a hand over his brow to shield from the sun. “Should be in your powers as Ultimus, yes.”

“Great. What else can I do?”

xxx

As Alan trekked through his new realm, he pondered many things. Why did it seem like there were elements of four seasons, even though he grew up mostly in the hot desert? Was this terrain a vomit of his dreams from Earth?

His arms and legs felt lighter here, and having no threats in the vicinity was an odd, odd feeling. One he hadn’t felt since sitting on his couch after shifts at the shop. If that screaming Archer hadn’t broke in, he never would’ve thought it possible to be bothered at home.

Maybe it was a lesson he should take with him here.

Days went by in a blur. Dealing with prompts and learning how to navigate a new type of magic consumed his thoughts. The transmogrification of terrain was more of a mental exercise than an emotional understanding—something that was awakened since he donned the Title of Ultimus Merchant.

Springing rock up from the ground to create a natural-looking staircase, compressing dirt and softening it into designs he’d seen in old museums, taking pride in creating a place to one day build a world—it was exhilarating.

What’s more, his new Title allowed for an abundance of Saro resource within the confines of his realm, which meant letting his minions and souls free to roam this new plain. A few new souls even found the courage to walk about. One in particular caught his attention. A big burly guy who refused to make eye contact and carried a giant shield on his back. Oddly, the shield was fully colored while the rest of him remained etched in that same shadowy smoke as all the other souls.

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“May I wander?” The soul stared at the ground.

“Of course,” Alan said. “What’s your name?”

“No name.” The soul lazily dragged his feet away from Alan, lugging the resplendent shield.

Alan tightened his lips, watching with sorrow as the poor soul trekked on. “May I walk with you?”

“Mph.” He shrugged.

Alan tentatively walked up beside him. “Would you rather be left alone?”

“No preference.” He bent down, analyzing an off-color patch of grass. Alan was scared he’d topple over from the weight of his shield, but he managed it well.

Alan let the silence marinate for a while. The poor guy has been bottled up for a long time, so it was best to let him enjoy the peace.

“You are different than the other wielders.” The soul side-eyed Alan for a brief moment. His bald head had a white star etched into it, and his face was strongly chiseled.

“Hope that’s a good thing.” Alan was careful not to stare. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so he followed suit in gazing around the new world.

“The souls inside are more energetic. I think they are invested in your progress.”

Alan smiled. “How about you?”

“Curious.”

“I see that. It’s nice here, isn’t it?”

“Different than what I am used to.”

“What were you before the Soul Collector claimed you?”

“A defender of Hutten Fie—realm of the Rigor.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Alan admitted.

“We tend to stay out of politics and focus solely on our Ojin armies.”

“Surely they must’ve called you something?” Alan stopped at the next off-color patch of grass, leading the soul to it.

“I brought great dishonor to my tribe and have since abandoned my namesake.”

Alan winced at that, not daring to push further. “I’m sorry.”

“It is alright. My time in solitude has offered perspective. And being invited to this peaceful realm gives hope that my darkest days are behind me.”

Alan tapped the soul’s shoulder. “Don’t let me taint your peace then. Enjoy your stroll.”

“Thank you, wielder.”

Alan watched the burly man walk on, his shield swaying on his back like a ship at sea. He whispered to the Soul Collector, to Durger and Afarus, who were both traveling about as well.

Fsssh!

Two black smoky balls zoomed up to Alan, materializing as the two he whispered for. “Do either of you interact with him?” He nodded to the shielded soul getting farther away.

“He keeps to himself, mostly,” Afarus said. “I sense great Gray Saro surrounding his essence. A stone-type, undoubtedly.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s the one who tried to break up a heavy clash between two souls when I was first taken in.” Durger pulled at his beard.

“Yes, that was him.”

“Alright, next question.” Alan took out a coin and flipped it away from the shield soul so not to disrupt his nature walk. The giant multi-colored rock formation that Alan won for defeating the Hendra materialized in a cross-legged position on the grass, towering over all of them. “Durger… my oldest friend in this universe. Would inhabiting this vessel be appealing to you?”

Durger wrinkled his nose. “No, Sir Alan, it wouldn’t. I spend my time in the blade searching for Sir Ooman, since I know he’s in there somewhere. I’d be a big rock full of regret if I was to inhabit that.”

Alan nodded. “I understand. I prefer you at my back anyway, if I’m being honest. Same goes for you, Afarus, but as my trainer, you get second dibs.”

“Look at me.” Afarus spread his skinny arms. “I’d be an unwieldy mess in that thing.”

Alan laughed. “I thought you’d love the challenge.”

“In truth, I’d be fine. But I do prefer navigating the blade as well. It’s turned into somewhat of a home.” Afarus drew his long blade and stared up at its tip.

“It’s settled then.” Alan nodded.

“What is?” Durger asked.

“I’m going to offer this Figro Vessel to that solemn man in the distance,” Alan declared. “Once he’s done with his walk, that is.”

“A fine choice.” Durger pointed. “That shield was forged by three armorers and wouldn’t be awarded to a lesser warrior. Never. I would imagine he is honorable.”

“What if he’s the slayer of the honorable owner, my gullible friend?” Afarus sheathed his sword and folded his arms.

“I have a sense for these kinds of things,” Durger said.

“Yeah, and I have Alan’s Blue Saro.” Afarus winked.

“I sense only good in him,” Alan said.

“Me too. I’m just messing with you. Farewell.” Afarus’ dematerialized into a Black Saro essence and zoomed back into the distance.

“I hope he accepts with grace, Sir Alan.” Durger winked and followed Afarus in the same manner.

“Me too,” Alan spoke to the wind.

Alan played with his new molding powers until the shield-bearing soul trekked back to the sword. He’d built a throne for the Figro Vessel that sat there, waiting to be presented.

“Did you enjoy your hike?” Alan asked.

“I did, thank you.” The soul began to fizzle out of his form.

“Hey, wait a second.”

“Hm?” He retook his shape, tilting his head.

“I thought about what you said earlier and was wondering if you’d like an opportunity for redemption as defender?”

The soul finally made eye contact with Alan, if just for a moment before looking away. “I—”

“You can don the name Figro and defend this new realm by my side… if you choose, of course.” Alan presented the giant rock golem.

When too much silence came between them, Alan went on, “I was told you might’ve been a Grey Saro wielder in your time. What better way to exercise that again than manifesting your soul into a giant rock.”

The soul slowly sat cross-legged—in the same position as the Figro Vessel—and stared at his hands.

“A chance at redemption.” His star tattoo flashed gray, then he peered up to Alan, his irises trembling. “You honor me so.”

Alan felt a warm sensation swirl in his belly. “You look like you could use a break. Figro, then?”

“I would prefer that, yes.”

“And so it is done.” Alan clapped and answered a prompt in his mind to bind soul to vessel.

Ribbons of black smoke syphoned out of Figro like pulled strings, flowing past Alan and into the vessel laid out for him. Slowly, the vessel altered its composition to appear more like the soul—even donning an oversized version of the same shield on its black, and when its eyes glowed to life looking only at the floor, Alan knew the transference was complete.

“Welcome to the journey, Figro. May your redemption be legendary!”

xxx

More weeks went by. Alan rode Ria for hours at a time, exploring. Every breath felt fresh and new, serene like Green Saro. After wading through the darkness for so long, he had a novel appreciation for the other side.

During the afternoons, him and his minions came together to piece together a map of the realm. Then at twilight, he’d focus hard on concocting new areas with imaginative ambience. Sprouting high trees with purple and blue translucent leaves that reflected sunlight in such a way to tint the land those colors. It reminded him of an elvan forest… so he whittled bridges of the sort with his mind that came to fruition.

“Getting a little obsessed, are we?” Afarus scared Alan out of his laser-focus. His colored eyes bored hard into Alan’s.

“I’m building a place worthy of our stay, Afarus. Isn’t that what you did, once upon a time?” Alan challenged.

“It is. But you should be learning from my mishaps. Dividing your mind so absolutely is a recipe to forget. Go back to Ojin, Alan. With caution and grace. Remember what it is to be a force to contend with.”

Alan scoffed. “I duel with you nightly. Forge with Durger when I’m not building. Learn the ways of the Borai, guardians, and even Hendra when you’re not looking. I am more worldly here than I ever was out there.”

“Careful, Alan. You still have tethers to the outside. You forget.”

Alan shook his head. “I think of my friends all the time. I’ll be useful to them, one way or another.”

The question remained—how would he be valuable as a god? Seemed like he’d be closed off from his entire journey. To become a spectator and knower of secrets wouldn’t be enough to achieve his goals… would it?

That night, Alan recalled his time outside his realm. He originally wanted to pick powerful memories to replenish his dull pearls orbiting around him, but he wound up thinking of his trances. To his surprise, a thought of Gregorian’s former bow owner came to mind, of him shackling a beast with lightning Saro. The memory transfused immediately into a pearl, brightening it.

“That’s a cool goddamn combo!” Then he realized he’d never be able to use it if he accepted godhood.

To be alive in this body is a call to adventure…

…but in the months that followed, the universe lured him like an addicting game, coaxing him to perhaps take on the role. He imagined governing justly. Allowing people of all Origins, to the extent they weren’t deranged psychos. He remembered how crazy the shop would get sometimes with the strangest walks of life trying to sell the oddest things to him. He had a whole career of dealing with diverse traders, not to mention his short time in Strangey Town.

He knew something else too: the realm would be Merchant-friendly. He could finally have his own shop. Finally. No, it would be even better—he would govern an entire economy!

As if the universe read his mind, a prompt came up:

Do you now accept the transition to godhood?

Alan thought hard about his hopes and dreams. If he said yes, then the notion of those clairvoyant frogs were complete bullshit. Strangey Town was bullshit.

Maybe that was okay.

He smiled, staring at the words in his vision.

Ting! Ting!

His Soul Collector rumbled on his back.

“Hm?” He drew it, staring at both the blade and the prompt at the same time.

Trio the Dreamcatcher formed out of it with shaky breath. “Alan! Let me out, I have an urgent message!”

The sword shook in his grip. “Okay, okay.” Alan commanded a pinch of anger into the blade, prompting the odd Dreamcatcher to step out like he was avoiding a mud puddle.

“Will you stand back! Stand back!” Trio pushed Alan. “I said it’s urgent! From one of your friends, I think. A whacky looking Wizard.”

“Flint.” Alan tensed.

“Yes! That’s the one.” Trio swung his net in a wide circle, creating a magical window that showed chaos, spells and explosions flying over a familiar realm. Braided trees groaned in the background. Then his friend stepped to the forefront with soot all over his face.

“This is a call to any and all who may provide aid!” Flint held his hat, his expression desperate. “Hyndole has returned to wreak havoc on Strangey Town. Jaeger intends to declare war! Allies, friends, this is the time—we need you, or our home is lost!”

Boom!

The portal shook apart from an explosion on the other end, leaving Alan and Trio staring blankly at one another.

Alan focused on the prompt taunting him. “How does a god help in war?”

“A god? You are a warrior Merchant! You strange, strange, confused duck always swimming in the wrong direction. What does a god do? It sends its forces to aid! It defends its own dominion!”

“Forces.” Alan looked around to an empty canvas of altered terrain. “Flint needs me.”

“Yes, yes, it sure does look that way, doesn’t it? Duh!”

Alan grimaced and swiped his hand, tossing Trio back into the blade and begging Durger out.

“Alan. Strangey Town…”

“I know.” Alan paced. “If I accept the role of god, I would be useless to them, wouldn’t I?”

“That’s outside my realm of knowledge, Sir Alan. But I do know how I felt when I lost Sir Ooman. Life just wasn’t the same.”

“That’s how it would be if I remained here. I’d be abandoning everyone who helped me. What am I doing? I haven’t even paid all my debts back yet. This isn’t me.” He shook his head, like awakening from a dream. “I have to help my friends.”

Afarus peeked out of the blade. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

“Trio is poking me.” Durger rubbed his back. “Says Flint’s message comes with a portal to the battle.”

Alan clenched his fist, squeezing out helixes of Green Saro to revitalize himself, and swiped the prompt out of his vision. “Send him. When a friend calls, we answer.”