{Steady yourself. Think not to make the first strike.}

Ir'alith's entire body tensed, prepared to spring into action at any hint of aggression. She had no confidence in her ability to triumph, but with her strength added to that of her friend it was possible that—

"And since I do know this," the deity continued, sounding even more amused, "maybe I should tell your friend of the towering lust and regret you feel now? Explain what you were close to?"

Ir'alith frowned, but she let the cryptic statements pass her by. "Think not to divide us," she called out. "My resolve is firm. I will never abandon my friend."

Vol gave her a curious look, joined soon after by a half-smile. "You really… You wanna be friends that much?"

"Were you not the one who wished for us to be friends? Who aided me without hesitation?" Ir'alith waited. Surely this is some manner of ruse. She seeks to strike while the enemy is distracted.

"You've found a stalwart friend," said the deity. "I'm happy for you, my scorpion. I can only imagine what she'll think when I tell her that—"

"UHHH THERE'S NOTHING TO—OH, LOOK AT THIS WEATHER!" Vol shouted suddenly, pointing at the sky.

Is this a signal? Should I—

"You'll take up your mantle once more then. Good. I brought you these in case you agreed quickly." A small basket appeared in one of the deity's hands, strangely distinct against the illusory form which held it. "Your favorite."

"You say that like you actually brought them," Vol said in a sulking manner.

"Vol, who do we now face?" Ir'alith asked.

"Ah, I apologize to you, fairest of the demons," the deity said. It bent forward at its middle, and its horns crawled upwards along with the motion to remain vertical. "I am Sateus, the one true god of victory."

Ir'alith's eyes narrowed. "A human deity."

The figure, who had called itself Sateus, righted itself. "Have I not been with your people often enough? Think now, how many tales have you heard of battles where your ancestors were nearly defeated, managing to rout their foes when all seemed lost?"

The figure suddenly towered over her, and its frigid hand closed tightly around her throat as it lifted her effortlessly off the ground. "You question me, even as you remain free? After your shackles were broken? After you bathed in the blood of your enemy?" it whispered into her ear.

Then, as though waking from a nightmare, the deity again stood in its former place, holding out a basket filled with fruit. "I think maybe you misunderstood," it said, again sounding jovial and uncaring.

"I saw that," Vol said. She crossed her arms and glared and the illusory shape.

The freezing, killing grip of the deity—the true deity—lingered around Ir'alith's neck for a moment longer before abruptly vanishing, but it took longer before the sense that her death had come for her faded.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Sateus said. It swung the basket idly, as though it was a child growing tired of its burden. "But if you don't want these fruits from Cilena's garden, then—"

"Fine, fine, I want them," Vol said. She stomped forward and snatched the basket, taking one and holding it to her mouth. She took a bite and moaned, her body shuddering as she clenched her eyes shut. "Fuck, how're these so fucking good?"

"You know how," Sateus said. "Will you not share with your friend?"

"Uh…"

Ir'alith's gaze moved warily between the basket and the true deity. Is this a friend or a foe?

"Here, try one," Vol said, holding the half-eaten fruit in one hand with the handle of the basket and offering a whole one up. "I think… Yeah, you're strong, so you'll probably be okay."

"I need not eat for sustenance," Ir'alith said in an attempted refusal.

"Try one," Vol said, holding it up and pushing it against her lips. "You'll like it, I promise."

"Eat," Sateus said. Six separate sets of jaws filled with dagger-like teeth grinned at her from the deity's head where they became distinct for a moment.

Ir'alith opened her mouth, and the fruit was gently pressed forward. She took a bite.

Juices erupted into her mouth.

The flavor was pure pleasure of a sort that she had never felt. It spread through her entire body, causing her muscles to lock and her eyes to lose focus. Her toes curled. She let out a whine which changed into a moan, and she would have fallen over if not for her axe on which she leaned heavily. The pleasure gathered into her head, and she felt as though she was floating for a moment before her senses began to return.

"What…" She tried to speak, but lingering feelings of the most exquisite bliss ran through her, and she clamped her mouth shut before she could humiliate herself with another sound.

"Orgasm fruit," Vol said. She took another bite of hers and shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment. "Can't get them normally, but when this fucking guy shows up…"

"Only the strongest of mortals can withstand a single drop of the pleasure fruit's juice without losing themselves to the endless pursuit of pleasure," Sateus said. "Without being defeated." A chair, its form as indistinct as the deity's, appeared nearby and was immediately occupied by that same deity. "Take pride in your strength, Ir'alith of the demons. I am here, and you are victorious."

Ir'alith's mind spun as she collected the fragments of her thoughts from where they had flown. This is a dangerous thing. She eyed the basket even more warily than before.

"Want the rest of it?" Vol said, holding up the remainder of the hand-sized, circular pink fruit.

"No," Ir'alith said, though she was unable to decide whether that was truly her desire.

"I'll save a couple for you in case you change your mind. Carl too." Vol took the half-eaten fruit and tossed it into the space beside her where it disappeared, sending another two from the basket after it.

Three remained, and Ir'alith waged a brief inner war to stop herself from asking for one as her thoughts leaned in one direction.

"Strong indeed," Sateus said.

"Do not mock me, deity," Ir'alith snarled as her mind cleared more completely, feeling her ever-present rage begin to boil up within herself.

"Hey, relax," Vol said, holding up her free hand in a gesture of peace. "He's annoying, and condescending, and—"

"You know what condescending means?" Sateus interrupted.

"—And he can definitely go fuck himself," Vol growled without looking over, "but he's not… He might have really fucking bad timing, but he's…"

"Yes?" Sateus said in an encouraging tone.

"Nah, he can just go fuck himself," Vol said. She took the remaining half of the fruit she had started to eat and tossed it into her mouth, spending the next short while shivering with her eyes squeezed shut. "These're better than I remember," she murmured.

Ir'alith stared. Her strength is formidable indeed if she tolerates such a thing so easily.

"Nothing but the best for my one and only," said Sateus. "Now then, sit, and we'll discuss the reason for my visit." It—He gestured, and two chairs appeared, each seeming solid and real unlike the one on which he sat.

"Nah, I'm gonna just…" Vol tossed the basket away, and it disappeared into what must have been a similar sort of pocket dimension as Carl used. She made a strange motion with her arms, and a much larger chair appeared, this one seeming more like a throne of cushioning. She set the chair on the ground and flopped across it.

Ir'alith looked at the chairs. They were…

When she had first seen them, they appeared to her with wide, flat backs that rose up off the seat, but now there was only a single chair and it had a large slot in its back through which she could comfortably fit her tail, the upper part somehow suspended over the seat with no physical nor magical support. She frowned as she stuck her axe in the ground beside her before she sat. The creation powers of a true deity are more confusing to behold than I had imagined.

"I come seeking the help of mortals," Sateus said. His head turned to look back and forth between the two. "A competition draws near, and—"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Another one?" Vol interrupted. "Didn't you say they only happened every century last time?"

"That is correct," Sateus said with a nod. "The previous competition you attended was more than a decade ago, and—"

"No, that was… Three years ago?"

"To mortals, time is an arrow," Sateus said. "To a deity—to a deity like me—time is…"

A sphere of water appeared before him, and it stretched out into a line, then began wrapping and circling back on itself.

"Urgh, too fucking complicated," Vol complained.

"Not for your friend it isn't, I think," Sateus said as he faced Ir'alith, giving her the tingling sense of enemies watching from every angle.

"I know this well," Ir'alith said quietly. She cleared her mind, thinking no further of it.

The water vanished.

"I had a plan for the previous competition," Sateus began. "It was a plan without flaws. If I decide to win, I win. This is fate. This is what I am."

"And I won!" Vol said.

"You did," Sateus agreed with the patience one would use to speak to a small child, "and then you were disqualified and cast out. Banished from that realm for all time. I won, but my plan failed."

"Said I cheated," Vol sulked.

Ir'alith sat and watched, her wariness slowly fading as her friend continued to behave as though there was no danger in speaking to a true deity in such a way.

"Yes, yes, you were baited expertly," Sateus said with the sense of one who had repeated himself many times. "I can't fault you for that. Entirely. But there is another chance now. Likely the last. I must regain what I have lost."

"Okay," Vol said with a sigh. "Same as last time? Let's get it over with."

"The rules have been changed," Sateus said. "The other deities grew jealous of my little scorpion, and now there are complications." His head turned back to Ir'alith. "That's why I've come while you were together. I need both of you. And her outworlder." He turned his head back and forth. "He should be here. Where is he?"

"Fuck, Sateus, are you really a deity?" Vol asked as she tipped her head farther over the side of her chair. "You should know he's playing a joke on us right now, shouldn't you?"

"A joke…" The deity brought a foggy, eight-fingered hand to his head, and a horn curled down for him to stroke. "Ah. I understand. This…complicates matters further," he said slowly.

"What is this competition of which you speak?" Ir'alith asked.

"Some stupid shit where all the deities drag their champions off to see who's the strongest," Vol said.

"There's… It's not so simple, but my time to act is limited. Ask, and I will explain in full at a later time," Sateus said, waving away the idea with another of his hands, this one shaped like a small sickle. "To be brief, we will travel to a world in another realm where the competition is held. There are five types of competition now—"

"Five?" Vol exclaimed. "What the fuck?"

"It was increased from two as one of the changes," Sateus said in the same patient manner into which he had settled.

"What was wrong with fighting and fucking?" Vol demanded, throwing her hands up.

"There was a demand for more types of fighting after you defeated every opponent in moments."

Vol pointed at him. "You said not to give anyone even a small chance of winning!"

Sateus tilted his head until it was horizontal. "Have I ever shown displeasure at your prowess, my scorpion?"

"Urgh…" Vol let her hands drop, hanging off the side of the chair over her head.

"Fighting is now split into four types of combat, and a champion may only compete in a single type. Deities now must bring five champions to compete, which is much more trouble than—"

"So I can't just do all of them?"

"No, you can't."

"What if I disguise myself?"

"We'll already be doing that just so you can compete in a single type of combat. There are limits even to my abilities."

"Seems stupid. Why're you even bothering?"

"I have my reasons. Scorpion, you will compete as my magician in the magical battles this time. None of the deities have seen your other—"

"WHAAAT?!" Vol screeched as she sat up. "I can't use magic!"

Sateus held a gleaming arm up, and a bolt of blinding lightning shot out of Vol to strike it. "You can't?"

"That's not magic," Vol said.

"It is not," Ir'alith agreed. "There is no use of magic, elemental or spell."

Sateus chuckled. "But it could be magic. It's an ability that could obviously be reproduced with magic, so there will be few complaints, all of which I can silence."

"Why can't I just punch people again?" Vol asked. "Magic can make punches, can't it?"

"It can," Ir'alith confirmed.

"Because everyone would recognize you if you did the same thing as last time," Sateus said, now seeming tired of being patient.

"I could kick people?"

"My scorpion, the memory of a deity is not so feeble," said the deity. "I will claim you are a descendant of yourself and obscure your essence, but no deity is so stupid as to not pierce that veil should you rouse enough suspicion."

"This sounds like cheating," Vol said.

"It does," Ir'alith agreed, once more being drawn into the discussion. "Did you not say she had been banished?"

"She was banished from the realm, not from the competition," Sateus said. "If she can reach the tournament, she can compete. It's not cheating."

"Oh, okay," Vol said.

Ir'alith frowned at the explanation. My own suspicion is roused. This is an evasion such as the humans would use.

"You will compete as my magician," Sateus repeated, pointing to Vol. "You," he said, pointing to Ir'alith, "will be my warrior of pure physical might."

"I…" Ir'alith paused. "No, regardless of my feelings, I cannot." She shook her head. "I cannot leave this world, no matter the reason." Even if I was not bound to protect my people, I have no reason to help this deity.

"But if you don't go, I'll be bored," Vol complained.

"I apologize, Vol, but I cannot," Ir'alith said. "I must maintain the barrier for my people. To protect them."

"The purple thing? Can't Jungrathol do it?"

"No other of my kind possesses the power that I do."

There was silence for some time, and Sateus again began to stroke one of his horns. "It was never your fate to carry this burden," he said at last. "A deity does not apologize, however, and I have done you no wrong. I would ask you, Ir'alith, descendant of those who came to one of my worlds for sanctuary: do you crave victory? Do you burn for it? Does rage consume you at the thought of defeat?"

Defeat.

The word resounded in Ir'alith's mind no matter how she tried to quiet it.

Defeat.

How she loathed that time she had spent in defeat.

DefKeat.

Did she feel rage at the thought of it?

DKeIfLeLat.

No, rage was too weak to describe what she felt.

DefKILLeat.

Rage was the mere heat of bubbling lava against her scales when she thought of it.

KILLDKILLeKILLfKILLeKILLaKILLtKILL?

She twisted the word in her mind, crushing it and tearing it apart.

She would never be defeated again.

She was unbreakable.

She was the strongest.

She was always victorious.

She was Ir'alith.

Dedicate a single victory to me, and all you have lost can be yours once more.

These new words invaded her mind like the most potent poison.

She could not escape it.

She fought, but it was the stronger.

She twisted, but it had no form to bend.

She bit, but the taste of the pleasure fruit washed over her.

A single victory.

Always her victories had been her own.

Always they were dedicated to her people.

To her father.

To her mother.

To the her she could have been had they not been taken from her.

Could a single victory undo that?

KILL.

She shuddered in ecstasy.

A single victory.

To feel the touch of her father as he again fastened her mother's hairclip atop her head, she would give ten victories.

A hundred.

A thousand.

To hear a single word from her mother, she would give a thousand times that.

She would bathe worlds in fire and blood until nothing but ashes remained.

Until her existence itself burned out.

Victory be upon you then, my champion.

Ir'alith opened her eyes.

"Daughter?" Ira'unne said as she looked around, her brilliant green skin shining under the light of the suns just as it always had. "Where is this place?"

The world fell away from Ir'alith as her mouth slowly dropped open. "Mama?" she whispered.

"You have grown so big!" her mother whispered, running a feather-soft hand over her face, a softness that Ir'alith had tried so many times to mimic and never achieved.

Rage could never be so soft.

"How… I cannot recall," her mother said softly, pressing a hand to her head. She staggered and fell, spearing her long, whip-like tail into the ground for support. "What…" She shuddered, and her face contorted in pain.

"Mama!" Ir'alith cried as she leapt out of her seat and embraced the person she had wished she could see for nearly a century. She wrapped her arms tightly, feeling that the tall, indomitable mother she had once known was now smaller and frailer than she remembered.

"Alith, when did you become so strong?" her mother whispered.

Ir'alith felt something touch her tail, and as her mother's twined with hers and began to stroke reassuringly just as when she had been younger, she let out a wail. "Mama, I missed you so," she croaked between sobs.

"There are two now, but we'll need three more," said a voice that was neither sound nor magic.