He wasn't sure if he believed her, but he had the same sort of feeling like he did when he'd sat in the big armchair of his therapist, though he hadn't made an appointment in at least a decade. "I," he began slowly, "have what they call an inferiority complex. When I was growing up, my brother, Zack, was five years older than me. Any time I did anything, he'd already done it years earlier. My parents, my teachers, even my coaches when I played sports, they always compared me to him."

The fingers stroking his head shifted position, running along the top of his head even more slowly in a way that was even more relaxing, and he felt the last of his worries slip away.

"Zack was always the best at what he did," he continued in a near-murmur. "He never had to try very hard, or so it seemed. Everything came naturally to him. He was smart, he was athletic, everyone loved him, he always had a pretty girl on his arm, and he never failed at anything. Then, years later, I came along through the same schools and places as him, and any time I messed up, people would always point out how amazing he was."

"To grow under his shadow must have been difficult," Emma said. "Was he cruel to you?"

He let out a sigh. "No, he was always a great brother too. I… I hated him for it. Wasn't until I was in my twenties that I finally talked to someone about it for the first time and realized that I'd just been projecting all my insecurities onto him. Any time I failed at something, I blamed him. I always had to be the best at everything I did, but it wasn't because I liked being the best, it was because I was trying to catch up to him. But he never wanted to compete with me to begin with."

"Oh," she said. Her fingers paused for a moment before resuming their massage.

"It kept growing though," he continued. "Even when I realized that it was happening, I couldn't stop. It's…sort of that nature versus nurture thing again. This is who I am now. I'm afraid of not being the best. I can't deal with it when someone doesn't like me. I don't hate Zack anymore, but… Some part of me is still always trying to catch up to him even though I've surpassed him in almost every way by now." He took a deep, relaxing breath. "And apparently now he's here. To…take my place."

"And you feel as though you've failed in some way?" Emma asked. Her fingernails began zig-zagging in a languid pattern that brought with it a renewed feeling of relaxation.

"I have, haven't I?" he asked with a sigh. "Sateus was right. I haven't actually done anything myself. It's all just god powers directing everything I've done. I haven't legitimately fought anyone since I got here, and if I did… Champions of deities would have to be at the levels of the others, wouldn't they? I can't compete with that. Maybe… Maybe having someone who—"

"Don't be a fool," Emma interrupted suddenly as her fingers came to a halt, her hands pressed to his head. "You'd think to yield simply because someone's arrived to take your place? Do you know how many years I've spent fending off those who've thought to take my place? To steal what's mine?"

He opened his eyes and saw her scowling down at him.

"How've you managed to grow to forty eight years on your world with such a mentality?" she snapped. "You've claimed to possess the desire to become the best, but you'd accede with the slightest push so long as it's come from this Zack?"

"Well—"

"And why've you gotten so upset regarding the ease with which you've claimed victory again and again?" she said, her fingernails now digging into his head with a force that verged on painful. "If it's not some lengthy, days-long battle, then it's not glorious enough for you? Would it not mean you've been too weak to defeat your opponent more swiftly? Would it not mean you've lacked the imposing figure which compels them to yield? Perhaps the story of your weapon remains somewhat fantastical, but is it not your every action until this moment which brought that about? Perhaps you've been fated to carry out these acts, but could any other truly have decided the same as you've done at each and every moment?"

He stared up at her glaring visage and blinked, the words echoing in his head as the room descended in to silence.

"Drake Storm is a name which sounds so mighty and overbearing as to be ridiculous," Emma said, raking his scalp with her fingernails. "It's the name of one who's managed to, though it's difficult to imagine how such a thing is possible, rescue an entire people with the massive tool between his legs. It's the name of one whose reputation is so fierce that his opponents yield at the mere sight of him. It's the name of one who's befriended two individuals likely capable of destroying entire worlds. It's the name of one who's managed to cure me of my affliction when all others had decided it impossible. If you've the courage to carry a name such as that, stand up at once, otherwise I'll be forced to devise a new moniker by which you can refer to yourself."

He took a deep breath.

Was that really true?

The words she'd said made…

The more he thought about them, the more they made sense.

Why did it matter how he won?

Winning was winning no matter how it happened.

Even if a deity had chosen his path for him, he was still deciding to walk along it.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

And why would he give up just because his brother was here?

Wouldn't that be the real failure?

The fact of it was that in this place, on Aleon, he didn't have a brother.

As long as he was here, he was Drake Storm.

That was who he was at his core.

He wouldn't give up trying to be the best for anyone or anything.

Drake took a breath and inclined himself to a sitting position. He took another breath and stood up. Yeah, what the fuck was I thinking? Me? Fail? That never happens.

"Very good, Mister Storm," Emma said from behind him. "Now then, what do you plan to do with your newly-acquired resolve?"

He turned around with eleven-out-of-ten confidence and met her small smile with a widening grin. "Not a fucking clue," he said.

She blinked a couple times, then raised a hand to cover her mouth and began to laugh. "I've a singular admiration for the boldness with which you've delivered that statement."

"Thanks, Emma," he said, continuing to grin. "That was just what I needed. And…call me Drake. You're making me feel a little old."

"No, Mister Storm, I'm quite enjoying our current dynamic," she said in a slightly teasing tone, turning to stride back towards the sofa, where her book was laying. "Has our divine patron spoken of anything else, or were his words merely those which unsettled you?" She swept her hand under the back of her white dress as she gracefully took a seat on the sofa once more.

"Uh, well, he did say some other things," Drake said as he walked back towards the chair. Shit, I've got a lot to do, don't I?

"If you would, Mister Storm, I'd enjoy it if you'd sit with me here," Emma called, patting the spot next to her with one hand while she set her book on the table next to a pitcher and partly-filled glass of grape-looking wine with the other.

He paused for a moment and gave her a look, but her expression was her usual small smile. I didn't expect her to find me like that. "Why are you still in my room anyway?" he asked as he walked to the couch.

She brushed her toes against his leg as he walked past her, then leaned against his side when he sat down on her right. "I've decided that your quarters are preferable to mine, so you'll need to accustom yourself to my presence," she said. "Naturally I'll not require your thanks on this matter."

"Is that so?" he said, turning his head to look down at her pretty face as she rested against his shoulder.

"Mister Storm, if you've the desire to peek down my dress, you need only request it," she said with a smirk as she looked up at him. "Naturally as a woman in your domain, I'll need to obey your every whim."

Drake rolled his eyes. "Right, right."

"Oh, perhaps I've misjudged your intent?" she said in a teasing tone. "No matter, we've time for such dalliances at our leisure. What is it our patron's spoken about?"

This is going to take some getting used to. He continued to look down at the gorgeous woman leaning on his shoulder, not giving her the satisfaction of moving his eyes away from hers, which would be a failure on his part. "Well, other than bringing Zack here, apparently the only reason I'm here is to amuse Sateus and help with the plan to make Vol into a deity."

"Vol, is it? You've become quite familiar with one another, I'll note," Emma said with an exaggerated pout.

"Well, we have showered together," Drake said, working to conceal his grin as he anticipated her reaction.

Emma's eyes widened, and she stared at him with an expression of outrage for a moment before reaching forward to grab his left hand and drag it towards herself. "I'll not have you thinking lasciviously of another woman while I'm present, Mister Storm," she said as she clamped his hand firmly between her slightly cooler ones. She frowned after a moment and looked down. "Have you worked some manner of heating spell on your hand? Why's it so warm?"

"Yeah, big heating spell," he said, his grin emerging as a smirk.

"I'd thought you'd seemed unusually warm," she said, continuing to look down at his captured hand. "Is it something you've the ability to cast on others?"

"No, it's a family secret," he invented. "Don't you know spells like that?"

"I'd not waste my mana on such trivialities if you've the ability to do it in my stead," she said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Oh, right, I don't know why I didn't think of that."

"I'll grant you my forgiveness for not putting my needs above your own on this occasion, but please ensure it doesn't become habitual, Mister Storm." She patted his hand in a patronizing manner and looked back up, her slightly smiling expression becoming more serious. "Now then, returning to the matter of your bathing partner becoming a deity, you're quite certain this is the case?"

"I didn't really think about it like that before, but she's definitely been getting weirder since we got here," he said. "If she's becoming less human, then that'd make sense."

"Well then, we've a need to halt that process entirely," Emma declared. "I'll not allow someone I dislike to achieve that level of status before me."

"You've got a pretty high opinion of yourself, don't you?" Drake asked as he stared down at her in amusement.

"Rightfully so," she retorted. "Perhaps it might seem arrogant to those with smaller minds, but is it not deserved arrogance? Have I any reason to think less of myself?"

"You mean other than the times you totally fucking flipped out on me?" he said with a chuckle. "Or how you were clinging to your bed when we came to get you? Oh, and you kind of flipped out then too, now that I remember."

"Well, I believe we've explored my reasoning for my flipping out on you, as it were," she said, sounding more subdued. "As for the other matters… Truly I'd be a fool if I unquestioningly followed someone who awoke me from my slumber and claimed to be whisking me off to some manner of fantastical competition, wouldn't you say?"

"Alright, true, but… It was something about your sister then too, wasn't it?" Drake said as he worked to recall some details of a time that seemed so long ago.

Emma stiffened for a moment, then pulled away to sit fully upright, continuing to keep hold of his hand. "Yes, I've spent considerable time ruminating on that topic of late," she said as she stared blankly at the pitcher on the table in front of them.

"And?" he prodded, attempting to pull his hand back.

She gripped his hand more tightly and held it in place between hers. "Very well, Mister Storm," she said after a minute or so. "As you've shared an intensely personal matter with me, I'll reciprocate."