"Hi," called a red-scaled, orange-eyed dragon-woman sitting on a nearby sofa and picking at her claws. "It's been a while."

Drake eyed her for a moment. "Hi, Lekthi," he said as he started forward towards the other sofa that faced hers in the familiar room, silently removing his armor set back into his inventory in the process. Feels like forever ago I came here the first time. No signs of anyone else. Did I get summoned for another play date? Seems more like the classic cliffhanger before the final battle with how crazy things have been getting.

"You can tell us apart now, at least," she said with a hint of her teeth showing. She patted the cushion next to herself on the sofa. "Sit."

This should be interesting. "You have more scales than the others too," he noted, sitting down and turning to lean sideways against the backrest. And you're shorter, but you'll probably get upset if I point that out.

"You really have been paying attention," Lekthi said with even more of her teeth showing. "Let's skip all that sort of talking though. We've done that. Or, at least, you've flirted plenty with my kin."

"Oh?" He gave her a once-over, realizing that he'd never seen her wearing anything but the same white, formless dress. Now, however, she wore a tight, black, form-fitting outfit that covered her from her knees to her neck, almost like spandex, and left her arms free.

"I don't like you, Drake," she said without any particular inflection. "I don't hate you, but I don't have any particular reason to like you. You understand what I'm saying, don't you?"

"It's a little short to get to know each other given the circumstances," he said. Where's this going?

"Exactly." She nodded. "You wooed Cindriz at night, having had maybe the perfect opportunity for it. Nela loves Igyn and became more than a little obsessed with the idea of bearing children. Enzi has always longed for a lover, but that's been impossible unless she wanted to risk becoming infected. Railleth is young and brash, and she imagines herself as the savior of our race with you by her side. In brief, they hold some affection for you, but it's hardly your own doing."

He frowned. "That's a little blunt."

"You've spent less than half a day with any of us," Lekthi said, adding an amused snort. "I don't know how it is among your kind, but I can't imagine falling in love so quickly or even deciding fully whether I like someone in that amount of time. Do you disagree with anything I've said?"

"Well," he began. This is really getting philosophical again. Does she want me to convince her or something? "I suppose I don't know any of them well enough to say for sure?"

"Good," she said, giving him another nod. "If you intended to argue, I would have sent you back. My people value humility, and I have particular scorn for arrogance after what I've seen in my ninety six years."

"How long's a year on your world anyway? And days?" he asked abruptly now that he'd begun to have those kinds of thoughts.

"A day is fifty seven hours, and a year is eighty one days," she replied. Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

So that's like two and a half, and that's like a fifth… He did some incredibly rough arithmetic and rolled his eyes. "Did you know you're only a little bit older than me?" This is getting ridiculous.

"I didn't," she said, continuing to frown. "Is this meant to impress me somehow?"

"No, I was just curious," he said with a shrug. "Am I supposed to try to impress you?"

She stared at him for a short while, and her grin returned. "You are, but probably not like you're imagining. You see, Drake, my people aren't opposed to loveless sex, but, as you may have guessed, we do prize children highly. I've never imagined that I'd mate for love. The males of my kind go into a sort of uncontrollable craze every few years, and during this time the ones who are mentally weaker succumb to the primal urges of our heritage and try to fuck any hole they can find."

"Sounds like a party," he said as he tried to imagine the scene.

"I've read that there was a yearly festival for it in the past," she said. "That stopped when we began segregating ourselves between the healthy and the sick to try and stem the tide. Our places of healing had long since been closed to those who had the white death, and…" She waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. Suffice to say, as stupid as it sounds, we lost the last few of our healthy males to this as well as some females. They broke away from us, killing a number of others in the process, and we found them some time later, once they'd all mated with others who were infected."

She let out a laugh, and a puff of smoke blew out along with it. "Stupid, right? Unbelievably stupid. That was… Around twenty years ago?"

"What exactly is this white death anyway?" Drake asked.

"Igyn didn't tell you?" Lekthi tilted her head. "It's a disease that spreads faster than you can imagine, though we never did discover where it came from. For those born with it, beginning around their twentieth year, a white film starts to grow over the eyes," she said, gesturing to both of her orange, draconic orbs. "It gradually gets thicker over the next twenty or so years until it completely blocks out all light. Those who become infected from others develop more swiftly, and within a few days their bodies reach they same point they would have if they'd been born with it. Then, starting around thirty years of age, the same film spreads to the organs in our bodies that produce flame," she gestured to a few spots on her chest. "By forty five years, at the latest, we're left freezing and blind. Sometime around then, it spreads to the brain," she tapped her head, "and we begin to hallucinate. Greater and greater fears attack us until eventually our hearts stop."

She tapped her chest again, letting her hand linger. "In the distant past, we had science and medicine in addition to our magic, or so I've read. We had the ability to see tiny objects, and we could see this sickness with our eyes. We couldn't cure it in time, however, not even with magic stronger than what we have now, and gradually we lost everyone with that knowledge. Then we slowly lost our science as more of us died. Now we are five of us healthy and many more sickly. Those who are already sick tend to mate aggressively with each other in an attempt to leave some sort of legacy behind before they die. The rest of us…" She shrugged. "We live. We practice our magics. Hone our fighting skills. I craft armor so that we don't lose the old ways. We hunt, and we have a place where we can leave food and supplies for the sick ones, but it's a bleak life."

"That's fucked up," he said, shaking his head. "Why didn't you try quarantining or anything? It's too long ago to probably know for sure, but—"

"Until the effects begin to show, it's impossible to tell whether someone is infected," Lekthi interrupted. "It spreads by breath, by water, by food…" She harrumphed. "I'm sure they didn't try everything. They believed themselves—the descendants of dragons—to be too strong for some sickness. They were arrogant."

"Ah," Drake said. Damn, that really is fucked up. One sick kid in a group and…

"So, now you know more about us," she said, leaning back against the armrest on her end of the sofa. "With that knowledge, be honest with me. Do you want to mate with me? Do you want me to bear your children? Those who mate here, in Igyn's temple, will always bear children afterwards."

"Well," he said slowly. The whole thing feels a little hopeless when I hear the full story. But then again… "It's not like this was ever my idea to begin with. Sateus just warps me over here, and then…" he shrugged. "I've enjoyed being with all of you, but I'm sort of just along for the ride."

"Good," she said in an approving tone. "I've seen the care you've shown to the others. I respect you for it too. You could've been cruel and hurt them. Alternatively, you could've been even more cruel if you'd given them false hope. Compassion has led my people to their own destruction."

"What is it you want, Lekthi?" he asked at last. "You summoned me here for a reason, I assume. If it was just to talk, then… Well, I suppose I don't mind," he said with a chuckle. "Not like I have anything planned, and there's something weirdly relaxing about being here."

"I wanted to learn more about you, Drake," she said. "Depending on what I found…" She grinned at him. "I've spent most of my years reading whatever books I could find. Many of them were historical. The extended history of my people. Before we became more civilized, we had many traditions that it's said are relics of the dragons. Among them is a ritual."

Lekthi got up off the sofa and began stretching her arms, facing away from him. "It's said that in ancient times, the proudest and most sought after of the females would refuse to mate with any male who was unable to subdue her in combat."

Drake took a long, long blink as his thoughts traveled to the inevitable conclusion. You can't be serious.

"I don't know if we can stop our kind from dying out, even with Igyn's aid to ensure the health of my peoples' children," she continued. "I don't particularly like you, though I have some respect for you. I don't want to bear your child, but, if I have the choice to have children or not, then it's not much of a choice, is it."

She turned around, and a small puff of smoke erupted from her nostrils. "I want you to give me children, Drake Storm, but only if you can prove that you're worthy of it," she said with a toothy grin. "The others have gone out with Igyn for a while. If you can subdue me before they return, I'll be very enthusiastic."

"There's no way this is a real thing, right?" he said as he watched her begin stretching her legs.

"No magic unless it's for healing," she said, leaning to one side until her leg was nearly flat on the ground. "No striking at the eyes or the groin. No biting. No breathing fire. If you get knocked unconscious, it counts as being subdued."

"Wait, wait, you're serious?" he said, now more thoroughly taking in exactly how muscular Lekthi was, even if she was only a little taller than him.

"Railleth might be the best all-around fighter among us because she knows more offensive magic, but my people grow stronger with age," she said, flexing her hand. "I've never lost to her or anyone else." She grinned at him like a dragon eyeing her prey. "We'll start on three. One."

----------------------------------------

"What happ—Lekthi! Are you okay?" Rai shouted.

Drake groaned weakly. "She's fine," he managed I'm not even sure which part's been more exhausting.

"More than fine!" Lekthi called. "Why didn't you tell me how much fun this was?"

"Lekthi?" Cin exclaimed. "You actually did it?"

"Still doing it!" Lekthi said loudly, adding another powerful roll of her hips atop him.

"Are you under that sofa?" Cin asked. The sound of laughter started and then drew nearer. "What's left of it, I mean. You destroyed the whole fucking place!"

"He put up a much better fight than I expected," Lekthi called, her voice muffled by the flipped over sofa that was on top of them. "You really did impress me by lasting so long, even if you couldn't subdue me," she said more quietly as she continued to move, her orange eyes glowing brightly in the near-darkness.

"Save me!" he yelled, not entirely sure whether he was serious.

"I'll go get Nela and Enzi so we can all watch!" Rai called.

"I might even like you a little now!" Lekthi said with a grin he could feel.

"Let me get this thing off you," Cin said as the sofa began to move.

----------------------------------------

Drake's surroundings swirled, and he went from being surrounded by a quartet of grinning dragon-women to standing in the throne room of a deity.

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

"Drake Storm, you return again," said Sateus. The throne was gone now, and the room was a too-small rectangle with gray, stone walls and a hazy, ever-shifting form that occupied most of the space.

"What, that's it?" Drake said with a smirk. "I beat your little challenge. And that's even after you tried to fuck with me by saying Zack was here. I don't know why I believed that. Shouldn't a true god be better at that sort of thing?"

"You speak without restraint," Sateus said, its amorphous head drawing down closer towards him. "Do you not fear my wrath?"

"You can read my mind anyway, right?" he said. "No point in hiding it. I am who I am."

The faint sound of laughter began to echo through the room, remaining a low buzz in the background.

"Indeed you are, Drake Storm," Sateus said. "You, who loves challenges above all else, are an interesting mortal. A great challenge awaits you in battle, but I would ask you a question first."

"Shoot."

A greathammer appeared in the air, and an indistinct, too-many-fingered hand grasped it. "Is this your weapon, Drake Storm?" the god asked.

Drake frowned, biting back his immediate answer and instead opening his inventory. "No," he said again after confirming that his greathammer was still there.

"Inspect it," Sateus said, twirling the weapon in its hand slowly.

"I can do that?" Drake said, tilting his head.

"Did you not try?" asked the god.

Drake reached out and grabbed the end of the weapon as it slowly spun. "Inspect."

A familiar status window appeared, though most of the details were obscured by a thick blur.

Name: Grandmaster Haldon's Greathammer D̶̺̫̒ų̷͔̰͈͔̒́͆̂̄̾́̎̕r̷̗̳̼̳̦̼̟͒ä̷̡̨̠͚͖͎̙̩̺̩͎͙̽̋́̂̋͑̂͑́͊̓̕͠ͅb̵̢̬̤̻̈̽̈̾̂̽̾i̴̧͔̖̳͗́̓͊͑̀̓͛̃̀̈́̚l̷̫̫̟͖͔̟̝̒͛̏̓̽̈́̇̉̐͐̑̿̚͝ĭ̵̡̡̱͇̩̣̗̭̬̝͍̝̙͚̀́̾̽̐͠t̷̗̏̀̓͆y̵̢͇̘̱̫̱̠͖̅́̈͆:̷̡̳̤̺͈̈́͑̽̌͗̐̓̂̃̈̉̕͘ 1̷͎͈̖̺͛̾̂̇̿̄̽͝,̸̧̧̛̲͙͉̭̥͙͔̪͒͋͌̅̃͌̀̈́0̴̝͔͉̳̼̮͊̓̌́̓̋̓͝ͅ0̸̧̧̤̗̥̗͚̤͈͈͙͍͍̈́̅̃̈̊̔͛͝0̵̲̳͓̝̟͕͍͖͕̮͈͋̈́̊͌̑̃̃̕͠ ̷̡̨̩̭̼̱̟̺̝͇͖̳̽̅̓̾͗̕͝Ŗ̷̧̰̻͖̳̩͔͎͇̳̿̈̽̿͑̂͘ę̶͕̖͔̟̱̻̜̐̅̀q̸̥͙̿̂̀̒̽̈̽͒͋͘ù̴̡̧̗̬̠̣̩͎̻̩͕̈́̆͊̃́͊̿̕͝͝ͅį̶̣̗̲̥̳͛r̷̡̧͈̖̞͙̬̻̾͆̍̾̾̈͜ͅẽ̸̡̛̝̹͚͓͖͈̦̲̠̰͔̑̒̉d̷̡̬̏ͅ ̶̧̨̧̮̬̮͎̅̍̐̀̐̒̈́̏̋͗́̈̅͒͘L̷̝͊͗̋͆͂̽̚̚͜ė̸̢̱̪̼̦̝͇͈̩͚̺͓́̋̈́̔͘̕v̴̦͍̠̞͉̇͆͝ẽ̷̘͔̼̺̤͚̣͚͑̍́͗̑̎̚ĺ̴͚̠͔͆̌̃̄͘͝͝:̸̧̨̛̗͉͍̟̯̱̜͓̿̍̈́̏͆̈́ 3̷̡̡͔̱́̈́̚͘͠0̷̢̧̛̛̠͉̥̩͖̦́͛̉͌͆͐̀́͝͝0̸͖͖͍̥̱̰̲̠̻̲̉̄͛̍̑͘͜͝ͅ ̴̧̩̏̂̈͑͌̆̕͘R̵̻̙̠̞̿͛̊̌̈ę̶̯͍̻͉̭̈̈͊͗͊̀́͐͆̏̐͠͝q̶̣͖́̄̐̍͑̑̀̋͑̋̒̈́̐̈́̕ͅų̴̨̛̼̳̣͍̻͇̬̃̐͊̔̎̏̽̓̌̅̉͆̕͜͠i̸̻̋̓̚͝r̵͎͑e̴̡̙̳̳̰̒͒͐̍̆͆͂̎͘͠ḍ̶̡̹̣̘́̄͊̃̏̿͑̾́̅̃̌̚͝ ̶̫̥̏̉̕Ś̸̺̥̲͙̦̺̥͇̮͌̓̏͐͆́̚͠͠t̵̼͔̲̲̮̆̿̂́̉͜r̶̤͓̼̫͚͒̆ę̶̡͎͎̮͙̰̳͕͕͇̙̙̳̈́͊͑̊̈́͑͜ṉ̷̨̣̲͔͕͍̗̱͎̘̳̲̒̑̇͋̉͜g̵̨̥̠̠͓͉̘̈͒̈̈́́̽̀͋̊̿t̸̞̺̥̗̦̩͈̱̘̳̪̙̜̻̪̒͗̈́͒̃̽͑́͂͒͗͠h̵͍̪͕̃͊͠:̸̮̂ ̴͒̑̇̔̾́̎͌̂̐̒̽͌͠͠ 7̸̧̡̛̗̹̠͎̘̰̼̥̭̣̥̩̀̉̄̌̑͜͝,̵̱̘̹͍̬̦̬̣̩̝̼̙͈̽̎͒̆̈́͒̽̄͜0̴̺͕̘̯̜̖͉̜̺̹͙̲͛́̿̃̿̊̋̌̎́̚0̶̝͚̣̈́̊̅̌̔͐̌͗̂̑̊̚͘͜͜͠͝0̶̢̩̝̞̖͍̝̉̏̒͌͘ ̷͇̳͕̓̽͋̊͂̓̈́̊Ŕ̵̨̍̐̃̿͑̿e̸͉͙̻̰̰̊̐̆̃̈́̈́́̕q̸̜̟͖͎̤̮̬̥̬̔̏͌̓̄͘͜ǔ̸̢̮̱̗̫͇̣͔̫̠͖̊̊͜i̸̡̡̡̘̫͍̣̯͇̗͕͂̾̿̾̓̊͊̃̋͜͠ŗ̵̠̙͔̳̺̭͎̲̹̦̭̾̒͒̽̾́̋͘̚͝é̵͇̟͓̬̙̜̜͖̖͉͉̘̣̩d̵̥͉̣̱͓͉̦̖͒̿̄ ̴̬̙͚̮̯͎͖̜̦̗̫̀̒̿W̴̨̪̖̦̠̺̩̱͚͖̮̍ͅi̴̢̛͍͓̝̱̰̲͓̩͓̖͊̏͌̋̚ͅs̸̡̯̪͎̯̺͍̪̜̆͛̊̏̇͒̈́̋̀̈͝ḏ̸̠̫̺̬̦̹̠̱̼̦̱̓̓̋̒̒ǒ̵̺̜͇͎͇̮̯̣̽̇̿̚m̴̨͔̗̥͈͖̱̹̲͚̬̈̑̈́̍͠͝͠͝:̴̧̪̪̼̝͔̫͈̩̥̪̿͐̌͐͛͛̕̚͝ 7̸̩͈͊̓,̴̦̤̩͖̖̈́̀̀͌̽͗͆̾̕0̶͙̯͖̗͇̠̩̌͑͌̉̈́̊̌͜ͅ0̸̬͍̤̬͓̟̮͇͎̠̺͇͌̀͒͗͒̊̅̽̚͜͠͝0̶̡̢̢͚̞͈͓̝͇̻̿͋̔̿̌͂͋̄͗̃̅̌̑̌̕ ̶̛͇̫̉̾́̈́͊̂́̍͌̈́̊̅͂D̵̢̡͈̤̩̜̩̹̻͇̪́̋̈͑̑͒̐̚͝͝a̷͎̪̰͉̞̝̠͖͉̖͖̘̿͂̀̊̐͑̿͜m̴̨̢̮̗̩͕̥̩̖̦͖̫̹̩̩̓̏̀͂̏́͒͗ă̸̢̞̠̰̟̿͆̆ḡ̴̛̬̝̤́͂͐̿͊̽͊̕͘e̵̲̜͉͎̞̠̿:̷͍͔̮͖̘͕͊͋͐ 1̸̨̨͙͚̙͓̮̠̞̲͔̯̹̰̒̽̉8̴͍̥͓̻̥̿͛̀̈̐̌̓̏̈́̃̀̔̓͜͝,̶̢̢̡̨̛̜̰̭̳̲͔͖͍̘̳̌̑̓̉̔͘͝0̴͔͙͔̋̑͗̿̋̋̏̎̀̚0̴̧̛̬̼̹͙͚̤̜̹͒̎̾́̊̏̑0̷̱̙͖͔̲̂́́̃̑̑̓̂̽̀̐͐̔̉̈́-̴̙̪̎́̒2̵̢͚̲͙͎̬̞̮̮̟̞͚͐̍̓͋̎͛̒̈́̏̀̆̕1̶̧̲̰̖̳̉́̔̅̈͒͑̔̌̎̓͆̋ͅ,̴̢̢̦͈̳͕̮͕̈́̋̂0̷̝̻̯̣͉̣̐͐͑̅̐̌̽͘͝ͅ0̸̨͍̦͓̼͔͙̦̦̘̩̣̈̆̀̀̄̎̄͌̔̃͋̊͛͠0̴̹͇̜͖̀̇̈́͘͠͝ͅ Bonus: 5% force multiplier against armor, 10% increased mana regeneration rate

"Okay, am I supposed to be impressed that you can make copies of stuff?" he asked as he read through the visible sections.

"Inspect the weapon you believe to be yours," said Sateus.

Drake sighed. "Alright, fine." He took his greathammer out of his inventory and held it aloft. "Inspect."

A second status window appeared.

Name: Grandmaster Haldon's Bonecrusher D̶̺̫̒ų̷͔̰͈͔̒́͆̂̄̾́̎̕r̷̗̳̼̳̦̼̟͒ä̷̡̨̠͚͖͎̙̩̺̩͎͙̽̋́̂̋͑̂͑́͊̓̕͠ͅb̵̢̬̤̻̈̽̈̾̂̽̾i̴̧͔̖̳͗́̓͊͑̀̓͛̃̀̈́̚l̷̫̫̟͖͔̟̝̒͛̏̓̽̈́̇̉̐͐̑̿̚͝ĭ̵̡̡̱͇̩̣̗̭̬̝͍̝̙͚̀́̾̽̐͠t̷̗̏̀̓͆y̵̢͇̘̱̫̱̠͖̅́̈͆:̷̡̳̤̺͈̈́͑̽̌͗̐̓̂̃̈̉̕͘ 1̷͎͈̖̺͛̾̂̇̿̄̽͝,̸̧̧̛̲͙͉̭̥͙͔̪͒͋͌̅̃͌̀̈́0̴̝͔͉̳̼̮͊̓̌́̓̋̓͝ͅ0̸̧̧̤̗̥̗͚̤͈͈͙͍͍̈́̅̃̈̊̔͛͝0̵̲̳͓̝̟͕͍͖͕̮͈͋̈́̊͌̑̃̃̕͠ ̷̡̨̩̭̼̱̟̺̝͇͖̳̽̅̓̾͗̕͝Ŗ̷̧̰̻͖̳̩͔͎͇̳̿̈̽̿͑̂͘ę̶͕̖͔̟̱̻̜̐̅̀q̸̥͙̿̂̀̒̽̈̽͒͋͘ù̴̡̧̗̬̠̣̩͎̻̩͕̈́̆͊̃́͊̿̕͝͝ͅį̶̣̗̲̥̳͛r̷̡̧͈̖̞͙̬̻̾͆̍̾̾̈͜ͅẽ̸̡̛̝̹͚͓͖͈̦̲̠̰͔̑̒̉d̷̡̬̏ͅ ̶̧̨̧̮̬̮͎̅̍̐̀̐̒̈́̏̋͗́̈̅͒͘L̷̝͊͗̋͆͂̽̚̚͜ė̸̢̱̪̼̦̝͇͈̩͚̺͓́̋̈́̔͘̕v̴̦͍̠̞͉̇͆͝ẽ̷̘͔̼̺̤͚̣͚͑̍́͗̑̎̚ĺ̴͚̠͔͆̌̃̄͘͝͝:̸̧̨̛̗͉͍̟̯̱̜͓̿̍̈́̏͆̈́ 3̷̡̡͔̱́̈́̚͘͠0̷̢̧̛̛̠͉̥̩͖̦́͛̉͌͆͐̀́͝͝0̸͖͖͍̥̱̰̲̠̻̲̉̄͛̍̑͘͜͝ͅ ̴̧̩̏̂̈͑͌̆̕͘R̵̻̙̠̞̿͛̊̌̈ę̶̯͍̻͉̭̈̈͊͗͊̀́͐͆̏̐͠͝q̶̣͖́̄̐̍͑̑̀̋͑̋̒̈́̐̈́̕ͅų̴̨̛̼̳̣͍̻͇̬̃̐͊̔̎̏̽̓̌̅̉͆̕͜͠i̸̻̋̓̚͝r̵͎͑e̴̡̙̳̳̰̒͒͐̍̆͆͂̎͘͠ḍ̶̡̹̣̘́̄͊̃̏̿͑̾́̅̃̌̚͝ ̶̫̥̏̉̕Ś̸̺̥̲͙̦̺̥͇̮͌̓̏͐͆́̚͠͠t̵̼͔̲̲̮̆̿̂́̉͜r̶̤͓̼̫͚͒̆ę̶̡͎͎̮͙̰̳͕͕͇̙̙̳̈́͊͑̊̈́͑͜ṉ̷̨̣̲͔͕͍̗̱͎̘̳̲̒̑̇͋̉͜g̵̨̥̠̠͓͉̘̈͒̈̈́́̽̀͋̊̿t̸̞̺̥̗̦̩͈̱̘̳̪̙̜̻̪̒͗̈́͒̃̽͑́͂͒͗͠h̵͍̪͕̃͊͠:̸̮̂ ̴͒̑̇̔̾́̎͌̂̐̒̽͌͠͠ 7̸̧̡̛̗̹̠͎̘̰̼̥̭̣̥̩̀̉̄̌̑͜͝,̵̱̘̹͍̬̦̬̣̩̝̼̙͈̽̎͒̆̈́͒̽̄͜0̴̺͕̘̯̜̖͉̜̺̹͙̲͛́̿̃̿̊̋̌̎́̚0̶̝͚̣̈́̊̅̌̔͐̌͗̂̑̊̚͘͜͜͠͝0̶̢̩̝̞̖͍̝̉̏̒͌͘ ̷͇̳͕̓̽͋̊͂̓̈́̊Ŕ̵̨̍̐̃̿͑̿e̸͉͙̻̰̰̊̐̆̃̈́̈́́̕q̸̜̟͖͎̤̮̬̥̬̔̏͌̓̄͘͜ǔ̸̢̮̱̗̫͇̣͔̫̠͖̊̊͜i̸̡̡̡̘̫͍̣̯͇̗͕͂̾̿̾̓̊͊̃̋͜͠ŗ̵̠̙͔̳̺̭͎̲̹̦̭̾̒͒̽̾́̋͘̚͝é̵͇̟͓̬̙̜̜͖̖͉͉̘̣̩d̵̥͉̣̱͓͉̦̖͒̿̄ ̴̬̙͚̮̯͎͖̜̦̗̫̀̒̿W̴̨̪̖̦̠̺̩̱͚͖̮̍ͅi̴̢̛͍͓̝̱̰̲͓̩͓̖͊̏͌̋̚ͅs̸̡̯̪͎̯̺͍̪̜̆͛̊̏̇͒̈́̋̀̈͝ḏ̸̠̫̺̬̦̹̠̱̼̦̱̓̓̋̒̒ǒ̵̺̜͇͎͇̮̯̣̽̇̿̚m̴̨͔̗̥͈͖̱̹̲͚̬̈̑̈́̍͠͝͠͝:̴̧̪̪̼̝͔̫͈̩̥̪̿͐̌͐͛͛̕̚͝ 7̸̩͈͊̓,̴̦̤̩͖̖̈́̀̀͌̽͗͆̾̕0̶͙̯͖̗͇̠̩̌͑͌̉̈́̊̌͜ͅ0̸̬͍̤̬͓̟̮͇͎̠̺͇͌̀͒͗͒̊̅̽̚͜͠͝0̶̡̢̢͚̞͈͓̝͇̻̿͋̔̿̌͂͋̄͗̃̅̌̑̌̕ ̶̛͇̫̉̾́̈́͊̂́̍͌̈́̊̅͂D̵̢̡͈̤̩̜̩̹̻͇̪́̋̈͑̑͒̐̚͝͝a̷͎̪̰͉̞̝̠͖͉̖͖̘̿͂̀̊̐͑̿͜m̴̨̢̮̗̩͕̥̩̖̦͖̫̹̩̩̓̏̀͂̏́͒͗ă̸̢̞̠̰̟̿͆̆ḡ̴̛̬̝̤́͂͐̿͊̽͊̕͘e̵̲̜͉͎̞̠̿:̷͍͔̮͖̘͕͊͋͐ 1̷̦̥̈́̉̒̉̂̈́͋̽̃̓̀̂̚8̶͈̙̰̩͇̞͕̦̥̙͙͔͖̙͊͒͑̄̄͑͘0̷̡̞̻̮̼̯̙̱̺̺͔̜̮̩̒̏̂̑̆̎͐̈́́̈́͋̕͘͜,̴̧̞͖͖͍̻̬̪̲͌̐̂̚ͅ0̸̳̤̄̾̈́̏͝0̴͍̫͇̝͖̫̖̤̒̽͋̎̈̃͝0̵͔̩̔̑̾͗̕-̸̡̧̛̞͙̺̙̼͇̹̗͓̲̠̐͋͛̌̌̏̿̓̔̓͊̿́̕2̷͈͓̯̗̥͋̾̔́̊̑̈́̀̋͐͛̀͋̚͠1̴̞̮̋͛̒̄̇0̶̨̨̫͉̹̗͍̰̖̺͖̎́̉́̑͐̋͂̈́ͅ,̶̼̼̱̤͖̭͌̾̚0̶̧̪̳͎͍̮̳̲̣̖̞̗̮̞̅͑̀͌̎́̓͒̾̐͆͜0̵͙̖̲͚͍̯̺̬̒̌ͅ0̴̧̞̘͍̭̫̺̠͚̙̼̱͓̰͈̽̽͆̅͛̕ Bonus:

Shatter all bones affected by strikes made with this weapon

1000% increased pain per bone broken

Drake stared. "What…"

The deity's continued laughter grew slightly louder. "This is your weapon, Drake Storm," it said.

A vision of Rai, her chest splattered with blood, bones sticking through her flesh as she lay on a green sofa, crossed over into Drake's mind, refusing to leave. He swallowed, remembering her excited smile and gorgeous blue eyes from a later time. The crunch of her arm shattering played over and over in his ears. "Is that really…"

"You sought victory," Sateus said. "Was the victory you obtained her defeat or was it that you did not kill her?"

"But…" Drake looked back and forth between the two weapons. "I… How could I have known?" he asked, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. Did I really almost kill her? If I'd decided to hit her in the head…

"Would you have cared?" Sateus asked. "Had she died, you would not have made your promise." Both weapons vanished, and a pair of familiar, black, heeled shoes floated down onto the god's outstretched hand. "You recognize these," it said. "Inspect them."

"Are… Are those Emma's?" Drake asked, taking a step back.

"Would you believe me if I say yes?" the god asked. "Inspect."

A new status window appeared.

Name: Emma's Favorite Shoes Bonus:

Provides extreme comfort when worn

Increases self loathing by 20% every hour until removed

"What the fuck?" Drake exclaimed. "What…" He blinked, but the last line of text was still there. A fragment of his earlier nightmare came back, and Emma dangled lifelessly from the ceiling before his eyes.

"Did you believe that you were the only one to be challenged?" Sateus asked. "To become a champion of victory is to live forever as a legend in the minds of all who encounter you. Those who lack the determination to continue living after they have returned to their worlds are better served by choosing eternal rest."

More memories spiraled around him, ones of Emma smiling, frowning, scowling, staring blankly, laughing, and living. "But she's fine now," he said slowly. "She's fine, isn't she?"

The laughter only grew louder.

Emma's shoes disappeared along with their status window, and a bag of potato chips appeared in their place.

"Inspect," Sateus said.

Name: Victory Chips Bonus: Each chip eaten permanently reduces humanity by a small amount

"Are you fucking serious?" Drake shouted. "You were drugging her? With fucking potato chips?" Shit, I ate those too! Was it just the chips, or…

"If my scorpion pretends to be human when she is not, then she will eventually realize she has been pretending all along, and the blow to her humanity at that time, when she discovers she has lied to herself, will be increased by the duration of her self-deception," Sateus said. "Is one way better than the other?"

The time spent training and sparring flickered in Drake's thoughts as well as the incredibly weird, more intimate times spent together. "But she is human," he said. "Vol might have the crazy stats you gave her with whatever that fucking system is, but—"

"I did not give her anything," Sateus said. "I created the system on a whim to amuse myself, and it chose her. There are many thousands more who could have been chosen."

"Is everything a fucking game to you?" Drake yelled, feeling like his world was spinning. "You just fuck around and do whatever you want? Toying with people?"

"My designs are my own," Sateus said, and the laughter that had been resounding in the background ceased.

"Then why are you even telling me any of this shit?" Drake demanded in frustration. "Am I here to fight again, or are you sending me back, or what? Or is this just your way of punishing me for killing one of your champions?"

"Norman Jake Edwards was never one of my champions," Sateus said, its voice growing clearer and deeper. "He was a challenge for my other champions, each in their own way."

"Of fucking course he was," Drake said with a disgusted sigh. This is fucked up.

"One final challenge remains for you," said Sateus in a voice that shook the walls. "Are you Tim Clark? Or are you Drake Storm?"

"Huh?" Drake tilted his head in confusion, unable to process any further insanity.

"Do you believe you have ever been Tim Clark, or have you always been Drake Storm?" the deity asked. "Are you the you that you believe yourself to be, or are you someone else?"

"Uh…" Drake grimaced.

"Drake Storm, were you imagining you would assume a life as Tim Clark now?" Sateus said slowly. "Imagine sitting at a desk, or in a house, or even attempting to play a VRMMO game. You would never be capable of happiness."

The suggested scenes flitted through his mind, and he couldn't argue against the claim when he considered how crazy his life had become since he'd come to another world. Nothing would seem challenging by comparison.

"Your thoughts are muddled, as is the way of mortals," Sateus said. "Consider what I told you in another time: a true god is a being which has transcended boundaries. Creation and destruction. You believed yourself to be Tim Clark for a time, but you have never been anyone but Drake Storm. Your existence was created the moment you arrived on Eden. You have always been my champion."

"What?" Drake started. "No, you can't fuck with me like that. I'm on to you now, and—"

"What does Zack look like?" Sateus asked.

Drake froze. "He's…"

"Yes?"

"Tall?" Drake tried, struggling to recall the face of his older brother.

"Is he tall, or are you more likely to be afraid of someone taller than you?" Sateus asked.

Drake took a deep breath, but his lungs suddenly felt like they were full of holes, just like his memories.

"Your wife. What is her name?"

"C-Colleen…" Drake stuttered, his tongue feeling like it was overflowing his mouth.

"The wife of Tim Clark is named Connie, short for Constance." The god's swirling face loomed over him. "Tim Clark has a son named Ben," Sateus intoned. "Describe him to me."

"He…" Drake tried to take another deep breath, but he could find no air, just as he could recall nothing of the son whose name he'd been unable to recall before it was spoken to him.

"Do you believe that you had these memories and they were erased, or do you believe that you never had them to begin with?" Sateus asked, inching closer.

He struggled for breath, sinking to his knees as he clawed at his throat.

"You have enjoyed this time of achieving all that you desire, of being powerful, but you have never been anything but a distraction. A diversion. That with which to pass time. Anyone could have been you," Sateus said. "Now, bring me my victory."

His surroundings swirled, and he gulped air, feeling a different type of stone under his fingers.

"Drake Storm, champion of Sateus!" shouted a loud voice.

Drake rose shakily to his feet, his f