Gigi’s expression returned to its general neutrality. “I did receive my wish.”

The rest of us exchanged a look.

“You can’t just say that and nothing else, Gigi,” I said. “What was your wish– No, wait, even before that. Who are you? What are you?”

I’d long known Gigi couldn’t be normal. Had recognised for quite awhile that the things xe knew and said, even with the moderation, were so alien that xe wasn’t your average party member, per se, but this was far beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined. I guess it didn’t help that I’d never tried to close the gap between us. The most I could tell you about Gigi was xir player stats and that xir coat was inexplicably the coolest thing I’d ever laid eyes on. Given the technology of it, I probably should’ve suspected something was off.

Well, more off.

It did make me second guess what I actually knew about everyone in Just Friends. Of course, I knew Axel… mostly, but the extent of what I knew about Jye was pretty limited. I knew less about Wren. Could count the number of facts I knew about Tam on one hand. Then there was Gigi who I hadn’t even investigated beyond their class. Mostly I was familiar with everyone’s character over their background.

It was weird that I knew them all so little but felt protective about them, and that even somehow included Tam though I knew she didn’t hold me in the highest esteem. Maybe that was what happened when you put your life on the line together. Still, I needed to put in the effort to get to know everyone better. Always adding things on to my to-do list, wasn’t I? And if I wanted to survive this with everyone, getting to know them all better wasn’t a bad thing.

Gigi scratched at xir chin, as if finding the words to explain xemself.

“I am Linnikian. This form I have taken is not how I originally appeared. My people come from–” Xe frowned. “That is not right. The Linnikians are no more. I hail from a now dead world far from Earth.”

Nabu let out a sliver of nervous laughter. “Uh, well, that was your choice, though.”

Everyone was still staring at xem.

Gigi breathed out. “It is true. I was selfish. My wish only served myself.”

Wren’s brow was crinkled. “What did you wish for?”

Gigi looked away, eyes now downcast through xir silver lashes. “I am too ashamed to say. But Nabu tells the truth. My wish was granted.”

“You’ve been keeping the lid on this jar the whole time. Why should we trust either of you?” Axel demanded, his voice writhing with disgust.

Xir expression was strained. “I withheld nothing. Jye can attest to that.” Gigi’s shoulders squared, and xe lifted xir head to meet Axel’s gaze. “My sole purpose is to offer assistance. Should you not want me to travel with you further, I will leave the party.”

“Then fuck off,” the blond said.

I held up a hand. “Wait, hold on there. Let’s not be too hasty.”

Gigi had done nothing duplicitous in the time we’d known xem. Xe’d worked with us well and contributed to the party in a way none of us could. Not to mention that xem being LVL 10 was something we couldn’t ignore with the culling. Having such a monumental leapfrog in our party average may very well be what would toe us pass the line. It didn’t matter that Gigi was… a genuine alien. That was the least of our concerns.

Rather, there was something else gnawing at the edge of my mind. Something that didn’t make sense, now that I knew about the wish and Gigi’s background.

“Look, we’re gonna talk about your past in more depth at a later time, okay, Gigi? But you better believe you’re not off the hook. We deserve answers.”

The small Linnikian nodded solemnly. I guess this not being their original form explained xir weird accent and appearance. What had they based it all upon? I’d definitely be asking that in the future. The silver really was a choice. Actually the whole look was something else entirely.

I flicked my gaze back to Nabu, focusing on the inconsistency I’d noticed with his explanations. “I met a merchant in Twilight, the marketplace. Xanthe. They said their people didn’t succeed. How’s that possible? You make it sound like receiving a wish at the end is what always happens.”

The god’s head tilted to the side, confused. Then his eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh! Occasionally the matinee is, uh, not enough to entertain us. A bit of a flop, er, if you will. As divine punishment for failure, said population is… hmm, well, eliminated. There aren’t meant to be survivors though, uh, they do slip through the cracks.” He ran a hand over his beard, consideration on his plain face. “This merchant you speak of must be quite lucky. Perhaps they had an, uh, overly indulgent sponsor during their event. Some do get too attached, I’m afraid.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I pinched at the bridge of my nose. “So you’re saying we might not even get to the average culling?” I said, wondering how much worse things could get.

Nabu looked embarrassed. “Well, it doesn’t happen often. Maybe, hmmm, one out of ten times?”

How many races had they put this through? How many worlds had been destroyed, people killed? It was mind boggling. Why did they think they were allowed to just… fuck around with people like this?

My thoughts returned to the details of Nabu’s answer. A 10% chance humanity wouldn’t make it out of the tutorial. At this point, I was simply exhausted with the emotional weight this had placed on my shoulders. It was like taking a billion psychic damage every time Nabu spoke. I slumped back into my chair, letting this new information soak into me.

Wren raised her hand.

“Yes, young lady?” the god responded.

“I've been wondering. What’s a sponsor do?”

Nabu’s face lit up.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked! Well, essentially… we support you in your performance, and, ah, gain acclaim as you succeed.” He waggled a finger. “Um, but don’t go thinking you can just load up on sponsors, see. A player can only ever have one sponsor, and, well, their sponsorship is binding until the end of the event.”

It made sense; that’s what sponsors were, really. I’d watched my fair share of Twitch streams. The sponsor’s little logo popping up in the lower third constantly burned the brand into your head. The more popular the stream, the more exposure the sponsor got.

I frowned. But this was different. It wasn’t like the gods would send us merch or something. “What does this “support” entail?”

“Uh, you saw it during your fight with Tam… Didn’t you? Her sponsor intervened. Of course, well, such interventions are dependent on the managing deities, but they’re much, um, cheaper than anonymous spectator interactions. In fact, Tam’s sponsor, T–”

Tam cut him off. “Mumma doesn’t want her identity revealed yet.”

“My apologies!” Nabu bowed low, glancing around as if expecting to be struck down. He stood slowly, testingly, then continued, “Tam’s sponsor would’ve had to, uh, sacrifice quite a bit of belief to assist her.”

My brain had stopped trying to make sense of things. It was like joining the final lecture for a subject you'd never even heard of.

“What.”

“Oh dear, I appear to be getting everything all mixed up, heavens.” Flustered, Nabu cleared his throat. “A Deity’s strength… directly correlates to the amount of belief they’ve gathered.” He hmm’d for a moment before adding, “Ah, to put it simply, uh, we sponsor players to gain belief.”

“Like… a religion? You want more followers?”

“No, no, no, silly. You could say we’re well past that now. It is more similar to… uh, tangible respect or reputation in energy form. Many Deities do not participate in this event. Most are, uh, content to watch. The better a player performs, well, the more belief a Deity sponsoring them garners from those spectating. As belief is the only thing that matters to us, uh, it is what we use as currency. Tam’s sponsor would’ve paid belief to intervene, see.”

Under Wren’s breath, I heard the muttering of: “So belief is kinda like the kids’ screams in Monsters Inc?”

Though I was still struggling to properly interpret Nabu’s explanation, Wren’s analogy didn’t sound wrong. Belief was what gave Deities’ power. If a sponsor’s player performed well and impressed other Deities, the sponsors gained belief. It was really going to be hard not to imagine the entirety of humankind as that one kid Randall kidnapped and soulsucked. In fact, the only real difference between this whole “event” that Nabu was describing and Monsters Inc. was that sponsors required an additional unreliable middleman: other Deities.

This time Jye’s hand shot into the air as they raised their voice. “Wait a momento. Who’s the dudes getting the dough?” At Nabu’s lack of comprehension, they elaborated, “You know, the peeps running the show. The head honchos.”

“That’s such a good question! Uh, well, the ringmasters, as it were, are The Divinities and their underlings. The strongest of us.” Nabu pursed his lips in thought. “To add to that, each Dungeon and arc are assigned managing Deities. For… lesser Dungeons, they’re usually volunteer managers, but for players and sponsors with more belief behind them, uh, you might be lucky enough to be moderated by someone with true clout!”

“Is this… a lesser Dungeon?” I asked, knowing the answer.

Meekly, Nabu nodded. “Uh, it’s my first time participating. I wanted to try my hand, um, maybe gain a bit of belief. Test the waters, as it were. Hence my desire for honest feedback.”

It felt like one blow after another. We were less like a show they were watching and more like… dogs they were racing and betting on, being trained to run at their whistle, the rabbit we chased a singular ever-moving goalpost of a wish. How fucking demeaning. But what could we do? It seemed like it was genuinely do or die. And if we won, we could save everyone.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

If we won.

When this had all started, I'd called it the end of the world as we knew it. But when this was over… it would really just be the end of the world, especially if a party won the prize who weren't so altruistic as us.

The god gave a shaky smile. “All right then. Um, if that’s all the questions you had, who wants to be sponsored by me?”

Collectively almost everyone in the party made the same face.

“Yeah, no. Hard pass,” Axel said.

“I’m sorry, dude, but I don’t think I’m ready for that type of commitment yet,” Jye replied.

“Let me get back to you.” I felt kind of bad, but the best I could do was a soft no. Nabu would not be a good sponsor, based on everything he’d said.

“Oh, me!” Wren sprung up, standing on the room-length desk, scrambling forward. “Sponsor me!”

Aghast, our mouths opened to object, but before any of us could intervene, Nabu appeared alongside her in a flash, a hand offered out. “Oh, a pleasure to be working with you, Wren, uh, Makris.”

Huh. So her last name was Makris. That thought played dully in my mind as we all dived forward to stop her.

She took his hand, ignoring the exclamations of protestations exploding from our party.

We'd reacted a breath too late.

A burst of air shot out from their shaking hands, and above them a sigil of a classic stylus, glowing gold, twinkled into existence before evaporating into motes.

Apparently satisfied, Nabu teleported back to the front of the lecture hall. He started humming contentedly. I stared, slack jawed, glancing between the god and Wren.

I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Wren had been sponsored by what basically was a minor god. What support could he possibly provide her? If belief was their currency, this Deity was a beggar. And a rank amateur at that!

And to top it all off, it was irreversible and permanent.

Fuck.

Suddenly those leashes parents sometimes put on children made a lot of sense.

Nabu plucked a pocket watch from his khakis. “Well, um, I have a Dungeon to take notes on, but I promise I will be keeping an eye on you, my dear. Ah, but before I send you all on your way.” He turned to me. “You there. I’m still, uh, waiting on your feedback.”

I fell under the weight of his full golden gaze, seeing in it the power he held. It pinned me to the spot. It was the first time I'd looked him straight in the eye, and in them I saw the immensity of what Nabu truly was. It was like staring into the abyss and knowing you were nothing but a speck.

Words froze in my mouth.

I knew instinctively he could smite me where I stood. My life was nothing to him. Less than a single flap of a butterfly's wing in the whole of the universe. A cold sweat broke out across my brow. The beating of my heart slowed in my chest, the feeling so akin to dying, of being crushed and immobilised by an invisible weight, that for a second I wondered if he’d already killed me and my brain had lagged before catching up.

Nabu broke eye contact, offering an encouraging gesture, and the feeling was gone.

Trying not to show the effect he’d had on me, intentionally controlling my breathing, I hesitantly gathered my thoughts. There was a lot I wanted to say. But given what I'd just sensed and how he was Wren’s sponsor, I knew I should hold my tongue. I carefully figured out how to phrase what I wanted, what I’d felt going through his Dungeon.

“The overall concept can be entertaining, but right now it's all bogged down by a large disconnect between sparsely plotted events and related environments. You need to tighten up the scale, make challenges more streamlined, and…” I paused, wondering if I should even mention it. “And give the Minotaur free will.”

Nabu gave one slow nod. Then a smile crept over his face. “I knew I'd saved the best for last, and, well, that’s a rather interesting idea with the Minotaur. Would certainly throw an element of randomness into it. Oh, I like it!” He had a little giggle to himself. “Thank you, Lee. How quaint. Thanking mortals, huh. The Divinities would laugh.” Nabu gave us a tiny wave. “I wish you all a good show, and I look forward to Just Friends’ progress.”

I blinked.

We were outside the Gate, asses hitting the road, back in Brisbane. I barely parsed the change in our location and the smarting ache on my bottom. Though I should’ve been relieved we were home despite the unwelcome pain, my focus went immediately to the ten year old.

Deity Commentary available

Ignoring the most recent notification, I exclaimed, “Wren!” My first thought was to immediately admonish her for her hasty actions as I grumbled to a stand. Stuff like this got others killed. Not checking in with other people was part of why Chrissie had died. I’d thought Wren had a solid head on her shoulders, but maybe I was giving her too much credit.

Getting to her feet too, she turned to me with a frown. “What?”

“You can’t just do stuff like that.”

“I just thought that the earlier we get sponsors, the better,” she said. “Also I was worried about what might happen if we all rejected him.”

The golden force of his gaze filled my mind. Because of his timid personality, I’d easily forgotten Nabu was one of the Deities playing with us. Even though he included himself in all the explanations, his appearance and demeanour had lulled me into a false sense of security. That last moment however… What would have the god done?

It was my turn to frown. “You might have a point about Nabu. Still, what made you think an earlier sponsor would be better?”

Wren explained, “Nabu said Deities get belief based on how their players perform. More belief is more support. So long as we stay alive, the earlier we get sponsors, the more belief they get, the more help we get. So any sponsor early is better than none.”

It was a logical train of thought, rather advanced for her age, but I was beginning to accept that she was just like that. I mulled her words over and realised she hadn’t taken into consideration one thing. Something huge.

“What if the sponsor just claims all the belief for themself and doesn’t help their player?”

“Doesn’t seem like a strat that would pay off,” Jye remarked as they chose to recline on the bitumen instead.

I kicked at a rock on the floor, channelling all my frustration into launching it clear across the bitumen road. “It’s safer. Think about it. A passive sponsor garners belief and puts no investment in. Sure, they might not receive much belief, but they’d lose nothing either. It’s like a fucking idle game for them where they never have to click a single cookie.”

Axel breathed out from between clenched teeth, correcting himself to a squat. “C’est la vie. Nothing to be done now. Did you at least get anything from it, Wren? A stats boost or something?”

Wren shook her head.

“Stingy motherfucker,” Tam commented from behind crossed arms; she’d been the only one of us quick enough to catch herself before falling to her ass when the chairs beneath us disappeared.

She looked surprised by her own words. Perhaps that she'd let her true thoughts slip.

Gigi had crossed xir legs and was sitting with perfect posture, hands resting on xir knees. Xe let out a disappointed sigh. “That is unfortunate. A sponsor should grant their player a unique title as their first supporting act. Though it does cost belief. Perhaps Nabu did not have enough.”

God, I knew he was a shit option. The rest of us had been right to reject his sponsorship. All we could do now was hope he’d come through for Wren when we needed him too.

Mentally, I also made a note to stop using “God” as a curse or exclamation. It was weird to use when Deities genuinely existed. Like I was somehow directing my thoughts towards them. And that made me feel dirty.

Tam gave Wren the side-eye. “You jumped the gun, gumdrop. I only accepted Mumma's sponsorship because of her power. Nabu ain’t nothing but a garnish when you coulda had a feast, if you’d put that impatience on ice.”

Wren said, as quiet as a whisper, “Those aren't the only reasons I did it. Also… I just… I…”

The party turned to her, concern etched into the furrow of our brows. There was something vulnerable in the way she'd said those few words, shaky even.

“Spit it out,” Axel urged.

In unison, Tam, Jye, and I smacked him along the backside of his head in response, and he hissed in pain, properly chastised. How Jye closed to the distance made me marvel. Truly, exasperation made one capable of great things.

But Axel’s words had steeled Wren's resolve. She exhaled a sharp breath of air from her nose. “I took Nabu’s sponsorship because I didn't want to be so helpless like I was in the labyrinth, because even if he's weak, he's stronger than me!”

Her fists were balled tight, hands white from the force, her cheeks flushed, and she was trembling slightly. It was determination fighting against fear. I'd been completely wrong about her being mostly okay in that dark room. I’d been an idiot. I could remember being ten. Being locked in a small pitch-black room by myself would've had me screaming.

Feeling like the worst person in the world, because surely I was to have dismissed Wren's bravery as I had, I approached her and took one of her small quivering hands in mine. She met my gaze, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying, though the tears looked to be beading along her bottom lashes.

I knew she expected me to continue my original admonishment.

I'd dropped out of soccer after Chrissie had died. I hadn't told my parents until they'd asked why I hadn't been going to practise on Thursday afternoons. The sport hadn't felt fun anymore. Because whenever I'd pass the ball, every recipient had been Chrissie as I helped her perfect passes on the expanse of drought-dead grass in our enclosed yard back home. I'd only joined my team because she’d wanted to play with the younger league, and our parents hadn't allowed her to go to the field alone, even if they thought the town was a safe place.

Understandably, when they'd found out I'd quit, they’d gotten angry at me, outraged. They’d urged me to rejoin. Told me I'd regret it. Said I’d be missing out on something special, and quitting was letting the negative emotions win.

My parents hadn't been wrong; I could see that as an adult. Everything they'd said had come to pass, and those upset attempts of coaxing me were done out of concern for my overall well-being. But in that moment, all those years ago, their words wouldn't have changed anything, wouldn’t have changed my mind. What I'd really needed to hear was something else entirely.

I knelt down beside Wren; her hand still in mine.

“Everything felt out of your control, huh? I’m sorry that happened.” I don’t know if I was talking to her or my past self. “Big decisions like this… they’re yours to make, it’s true. But they affect all of us because you’re one of us. Just next time you feel like making an important choice like this, can you please talk to us first?”

Her eyes widened. I’d hoped I’d said the right thing.

“Can you promise us that?” I continued.

She wiped away the beginnings of her tears with the back of her hand and nodded. Through a few sniffles, she said, “I promise.”

Feeling relieved by her reaction, I let her hand go and affectionately ruffled her hair. “By the way, congrats on your sponsorship. Nabu's going to drown in the belief you'll attract for him.”

She smiled weakly. “Thanks, Lee.”

“Hey, it's the truth. With or without his help, you're gonna grow even stronger, I can tell.”

Tam agreed. “He won't know what socked him with you, sugar.”

“He's about to get jacked with belief.”

“I believe he has underestimated you, and all of us,” Gigi added.

Axel, never the type for heart-to-hearts, began, “Look, I’m having the time of my life standing out here ala the Eva finale, but, here's a fun idea: we take this party somewhere else we’re not vulnerable to–”

“Put your hands up!”

One of us needed to get some sort of proximity detector. This was getting ridiculous. We’d been ambushed again and again. Alongside some sort of stat checking ability, enemy locating should be on our list. The next time we got a breather, I’d take a magnifying glass to the Upgrade window and figure out what was what. There had to be some way to Upgrade our abilities. I’d brute force it, if that’s what it took.

“For real real, where did you get a shotgun in Australia?” Jye asked, more intrigued than scared.

I stared down the barrel of the weapon to the person who held it as I raised my hands into the air.

“Where’s my daughter? I saw her go in a few days ago! What did you do with her?”

The person speaking appeared to be middle aged, petite, and with blonde hair in a severe ponytail that was beginning to grey at the temple. The expression on their face was a steeled resolve. A finger curled over the trigger, unwavering. It was clear our assailant meant business. There would be no hesitation. But this… was all too eerily familiar.

My heart fell.

“Mrs. Dainsworth?” I asked, feeling weak.