“The what-now??”

Iberius smiled weakly. His features were stark and imposing, thanks to his colourless cold eyes and perpetual scowl. His silver-blonde hair was set in an impossible sort of alluring curl only ever seen in movies and fashion magazines. He had a prominent chin with a strong jaw, and his face was very angular, being basically all corners and protruding bits.[1] His frame was slender and long, but held a faint whisper of muscle along his arms, legs, and stomach. On his right hand his nails were short and manicured, but on his left they were left long and looked sharp enough to draw blood with a single swipe.

With an elegant movement he snatched a fancy cake from a tray next to him, where several other small cakes sat, as well as cookies, biscuits, fruits, and a pitcher filled to the brim with dark-red wine.

“You see this Fragilité cake? It was my favourite in the real world, but, despite the fact that I created this World and all that it contains, I could not make it for myself. I had to create a baker and give him a backstory, a family, a store, and all that, just so I could have him make this cake.”

With a sudden flick of his wrist he flung the flaky treat my way, but, before it hit me, it simply turned to smoke mid-air.

“Peculiar, isn’t it? I’m all-powerful in this World, thanks to the good graces of our Watcher God, but, even with all this power, there are so many rules I must follow. For example, I would’ve liked to do more with this World, but because I was chosen to make the first of the Worlds, I had to include so many tutorial Stages and whatnot. I tell you, it’s quite dreary to be an Observer in this World. Most people don’t even try to fight through my creations. It’s as if they have no drive. They’re unlike you in that regard.”

I finally found my voice, and then boldly asked, “Is that why you created the tournament? Because you were bored?”

Iberius’ faint smile widened. “That’s right! You get it, Aiko. That’s exactly why I made the tournament!”

“Ridiculous.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is it? You see, we World Architects were given a choice upon the completion of our Worlds: we could stay as Observers of our Worlds or we could have our memories wiped and take part in the Trial. Given that becoming an Observer is the only choice that makes any sense, what else am I to do in order to find entertainment throughout these many dull uneventful years?”

“Trial? You mean the progression through the Worlds is some kind of trial?”

“What else would it be? Though some may claim it, my World, and those that come after, are no paradises nor utopias. They were crafted with a meticulous focus on achieving just the right amount of suffering and strife within the little pawns who struggle across the playing field.”

“And what about the people who already live in the Realm?”

“What about them? They are Husks, like you players nicknamed them. Hollow beings forced to repeat the same cycle in perpetuity. Hardly any of them live what can be described as meaningful lives. Some have cycles so short they lack much in the way of individuality.”

“Like the alchemist in the Village,” I replied.

“That one is a particularly bad case. It has fallen into decay,” he remarked. I didn’t like the way he referred to the alchemist as simply ‘it’: a personless automaton. “It happens when they do not engage with people for long periods of time. After all, it’s a rare few who take up alchemy in the first World, only you and—” he stopped, a look of annoyance on his face.

“What?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you that,” he replied.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Why not?”

“It seems to be against the rules. Don’t ask me further.”

I didn't want to lose the chance to get more information out of him, so I grudgingly complied, though it felt as if I’d been robbed of a great insight.

“Why do the Husks decay? Did you not create them? Should they not retain their functions by virtue of repeating the same life over and over?”

“You might think so, but no. I am no puppet master. The things I create are given life according to my whims, but once born they are on their own, severed from my interference. Those that interact often with players can become quite indistinguishable from them, such as the main characters like Tabian, but most just barely retain their functions. In truth, the Quests and Errands of this world are as much about maintaining the Husks as it is about fleshing out the narrative I’ve designed.”

“Can they ever go rogue?”

“Of course not. They, like me, are constrained by the Watcher’s rules. Only players are given free reign of their functions.”

“You aren’t free?”

“I'm talking to you about what is essentially my vocation, and it is the most engaging thing to have happened to me in over a month. What do you think?

“Watching players fail or thrive, fight and love, play and scheme, all of it becomes so very dull once you’ve seen it a million times. Only the few like you and the occasional murderers give me any flicker of entertainment.”

“That sounds pretty sad.”

“And yet, I wouldn’t return to the real world if given the chance. Boredom is a fair trade for Godhood.”

“Godhood?”

Iberius waved his hand dismissively, suddenly annoyed with me. “Enough! I didn’t bring you here for a Q&A.”

“Then why did you bring me here?” I asked.

“Because, as you said: I’m bored. And you are always fascinating to watch when you’re here.”

“I’m not your plaything,” I spat.

“Oh, I know. I know all about you, Aiko. Proud Raven-Black. Strongest of all the players in this silly game of our Watcher God.

“You know, He whispers to me every time you enter my World. I cannot tell if He wants you to succeed or if He’s fond of watching you struggle, but He keeps many of His eyes trained on you.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. This is far worse than the thought of someone Scrying on me with a magic mirror, I thought. Even the twisted God of this place watches me closely…

“I want you to fight a creation of mine,” Iberius continued, drawing my gaze back to his colourless cold eyes.

He grinned with self-indulgent glee as he noted my surprise. “Oh, I think you’ll enjoy fighting this one.”

“What’s in it for me? I’m not gonna risk my life just to amuse you.”

Iberius let out an annoyed sigh. “Of course, of course.” Then he held up two fingers. “If you win, I’ll let you bypass the Stage that normally supervenes the Tournament. It’s called the Hamlet. I am quite fond of its design, but many players find it bothersome and dull.” He put down one of his fingers, leaving just his index raised.

“Are you allowed to do that? Letting me bypass a Stage?”

“As long as I follow the rules, I can do whatever I want. This is my World after all.

“Anyway,” he put down his index finger, “I’ll also give you a reward of your choosing. Money, a weapon, a favour, whatever.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“You always ask that…”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve given you this offer,” Iberius explained, playing with a curl of his silver-blonde hair absentmindedly. “Normally you end up taking the offer, but there has been a couple of times you declined, though you always regretted it later.”

“How many times have we had this talk?”

“Well, I missed you the first time around, but since then? I don’t know. I don’t really keep a tally on these things. Oh, but don’t go thinking you’re the only one who I have my eye on! You may be unique, but there are plenty of more interesting people who take part in this Trial. Granted, most of them don’t die as often as you, so I see you here in my World far more often. You’re quite a reckless one, but that’s also what is entertaining to watch.”

He speared a baby-blue treat, which looked like a Macaroon, with the long nail of his index finger and dropped it into his mouth. He swallowed it immediately, then licked his lips before continuing:

“Everybody and their mothers use a sword-and-shield in my World. Not a single one ever picks the claymores or the rapiers. Sure, a few go with daggers or spears, but rarely do they survive past the Hideout…”

He sighed annoyed, but then flicked his gaze back to me. “That’s why you’re fun. You always fight with that sword. Never anything else. At least not in this World. It gives me such a thrill to watch you perform your glorious sword dance.”

Most don’t die as often as me… great…

The fact that Iberius probably couldn’t count our interactions on two hands was quite a terrifying revelation. How many times have I died in this Realm? How long have I been trapped here in this mad game??

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

[1] What I’m struggling to say is that he was very handsome, but in that impossible way most players in this realm were. However, this guy clearly wasn’t just any odd player like me or Jakob.