"Drake Storm, the time has come once more," Sateus said. "Prepare—"

"Can't you fucking control time?" Tim interrupted with a scowl as he stood up and worked to adjust his pants. "Teleport me over to here and now in an hour or something." I don't know exactly what was happening there, but a god's cockblocking is on a completely different level.

"Are you so certain I have not?" the god asked, sitting upright on its throne, which was now on the ceiling. "When is now?" Familiar sets of grinning teeth emerged randomly throughout its body.

The disgruntled mortal let out a grunt that was eleven-out-of-ten annoyed and equipped his armor set. "Whatever. I have a real question for you this time. Who exactly is Kazuto?"

"Norman Jake Edwards is his name," said Sateus. "He is the borrowed shade of a human who was brought to Eden from your world by using my power, later slain on Eden by my fair demon warrior."

That's a lot. Where do I even… "What's a borrowed shade?" he asked first. Wait, that sounds like he's dead?

"His essence was dormant in the realm Eden exists within. His death there is real, but this is a different realm. I have borrowed that essence so that he may perform a task for me." The god disappeared, reappearing in its infinity-out-of-ten fuzziness on the floor a few steps away as it gestured with a too-many-fingered hand, creating a gust of glittering particles that flew by on a breeze. "Once ended, he will be returned to his oblivion."

Tim grimaced. That's… He was really the best find for this? Sounds like a lot of effort for not a lot of return. "And Ir'alith killed him? Why?"

"Nothing else in all the realms can drive her to reach her full potential," said the god, waving away the trail of glowing dust.

"But why?" Tim repeated.

"Seek those answers from your fellow champions, Drake Storm," Sateus said. Its head tilted to the side like it had heard something from far away. "We will speak when you have retrieved my victory."

The arena surrounded Tim again, and he sighed. What the fuck. Gods are so annoying.

"Drake Storm, champion of Sateus!" the announcer shouted.

Well, let's just get this over with. Too much shit to deal with now. He reached into his still-open inventory and grabbed his halberd. Dismiss. A quick survey of the arena floor revealed his opponent, who…

Tim frowned. What the…

A hazy form tore its way messily out of the humanoid figure at the other side of the arena, discarding the green, fleshy body onto the ground like a set of worn clothes. "I am Elios, son of Fraye, and you will all suffer for your feeble attempt to banish me from this realm!" a loud voice like thousands of nails screeching across a chalkboard screamed, accompanied by a wave of dark particles that began to spread outwards at a rapid pace.

Tim sighed. This isn't even that weird, honestly. At this point, it feels like having someone hijack the whole competition is about the only thing that hasn't happened yet.

"Grovel before me and I may permit you to continue existing!" shouted the indistinct form of the newest arrival.

A loud wave of boos echoed out from all sides, and Tim added his own voice to them, cupping his free hand over his mouth to amplify his voice. I think they're probably still booing me, aren't they. There's no way I'll have to fight this thing. It'll probably surrender.

The black miasma disappeared abruptly, and another hazy shape appeared in the middle of the arena, looking like a giant, blurry blob. "Elios, why do you persist in this foolishness?" it called in a garbled voice. "You cannot defeat all of us!"

"Drake Storm, champion of Sateus, is victorious by disqualification!" the announcer proclaimed.

There it is. Tim didn't feel even the slightest satisfaction at the declaration. Instead, he leaned on his halberd as he settled in to watch the two deities face off, but his surroundings changed almost immediately, leaving him again in the throne room. "Is this fun for you?" he demanded. "Dragging me across the universe to do nothing? Why the fuck am I here?"

"You are here because I willed it, Drake Storm," said Sateus.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Again with this shit. It's driving me crazy. Tim opened his inventory and tossed his halberd in, then he halted. Sateus had begun to laugh. It was a sound like thousands of people laughing in reverse, and he felt like he was suddenly being watched from every conceivable angle, the gaze of each eye possessing a physical presence that was touching him.

"Drake Storm," the god said again while its laughter continued quietly beneath its voice. "You are indeed amusing. Why do you prefer this name instead of Tim Clark?"

Tim blinked. "What?"

"This is getting really fucking weird now," said Sateus, narrating Tim's thoughts. "Oh shit, is it… It's reading my thoughts?" Its laughter continued to grow louder. "Yes, you have amused me well, mortal, as was your purpose."

Shit, what the fuck is going on. That's like a line someone would say before—

"In recognition of your struggles and the entertainment you have provided, I will allow you to remain here until your next battle so that you may see your replacement," said the god.

"Re… Replacement?" Tim said, feeling a sudden sensation like he was falling.

"Did you believe all those who would challenge me are so feeble?" Sateus asked, grinning teeth again sprouting in various places along its body. "No, Drake Storm, you were an amusement. A trifle. A small piece with which to affect a change I desired in my scorpion so that she might step beyond and join me. Your actions have produced their results, and she will soon discard her mortal sentiments. You moved along the path that I chose for you to ensure you would not fail."

"W-what?" Tim stuttered as he grappled with the idea that he'd only been given a temporary, insignificant role.

The idea that he hadn't even been judged to have the capability to succeed.

"Your desire to seek answers from your surroundings has served you well in delivering this victory to me," Sateus said, its laughter rising slightly in volume. "For the battles that are yet to come, I have brought one far stronger than you. One who can compete with true champions, who will not succumb to simple tricks. You know him."

"No," Tim whispered, feeling a crushing weight settling down on his shoulders as a sense of failure descended on him. He took a deep breath, but it was like his lungs were being gripped by a vice, and he began breathing in short gasps.

"You have seen him in your dreams," Sateus continued as the laughter continued to build. "Why else would this be if he was not here? You have seen the final door in the hallway, which is as yet unmarked. Who else would reside there? You have seen how my citadel becomes clean again once you have sullied it. Who else would I trust to manage my affairs for me?"

"Just pinch hitting for my little bro," Zack called out.

Tim was back in his sitting room suddenly, but the muted grays were no longer comforting or relaxing, instead seeming that they had boxed him in from the lack of contrast between floor, wall, and ceiling. He stumbled forward a step, then fell to the ground, managing to roll himself over onto his back. The ceiling spun over him menacingly.

His hands went to the carpet at his sides, and he felt at the texture to anchor himself to the moment.

Each strand was a writhing, wriggling worm beneath his fingers. His mind recoiled, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"—ke? Drake?" a voice called.

He felt his head being raised slightly, and something stroked softly through his hair in a soothing way. The incredibly faint scent of grape wine reached his nose.

"Drake?" a woman's voice called.

He cracked his eyes open, and Emma looked down at him with her her brow creased in a mixture of concern and confusion. He turned his head from side to side, feeling like there was a pillow under his head, but he was still lying on the floor.

"You've recovered, then, Mister Storm?" she said.

"Uh…" Tim said as he looked up into her eyes. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Perhaps you'll share with me the cause of your ailment as a demonstration of your gratitude?" she said, arching one golden eyebrow.

Memories of the past few minutes rushed back, and he took a deep breath, followed by a second.

Fingers ran gently through his hair again on both sides of his head. "I'd imagine I'll not be the first to speak of it to you, but you've the most marvelous-feeling hair, Mister Storm," Emma murmured, continuing to stroke her fingers along his head. "Is the hair of your people naturally this pleasing to the touch, or are you a special case, I wonder?"

The rhythmic brushing was somehow relaxing in a difficult-to-describe way that overpowered his fear and grounded him firmly despite how his thoughts attempted to rebel. He closed his eyes for a moment as he basked in the sensation, eventually feeling the trace of a smile on his lips as he took a deep, measured breath.

He was here.

He existed.

"Thanks," he said again after a moment. "But I don't want to talk about it."

Her fingers continued their gentle motion, and she remained silent for a short while. "I'd like to believe you, Mister Storm," she said eventually, "but then why is it you've remained in place with your head upon my lap rather than rise up with the confidence you've shown previously? If you've the desire to speak of what ails you, then you'll find me quite the able listener, I'll assure you." Her fingers moved slightly, and her nails trailed across the sides of his head in an even more relaxing sensation. "If not, however," she murmured, "then perhaps I'll simply continue to enjoy this feeling for some time longer."

He felt himself slipping into a deeper relaxation than he'd felt in some time, despite the situation, and the next breath he took felt like it left him a new person when he exhaled. "I suppose it's not like you could tell anyone anyway," he said.

"You've my assurance it will remain in the strictest of confidences," Emma murmured, letting her magical fingers continue their work.