Minervica has finally returned to the sanctuary that was her office, although “office” might not have been a fitting word, by mortal standards. A sprawling library lay spread out before her, spreading beyond the horizon itself; bookcases with countless books and far too many half-finished scribbles, notes, and works lay within her domain. Statues roamed around orating lectures, rousing speeches, and whispered secrets alike while traipsing through the mess. Each statue tried to make order of the chaos, constantly transporting one book, scroll, or sticky note at a time, but their task was sadly in vain. More literature, in even the vaguest sense, descended every moment of every day along with the language flowing through the statues’ mouths.
Organization, however, was never the goal. Language, literature, and trade were the goals in and of themselves. Those were Minervica’s precious domains, and her realm would be incomplete on a fundamental level if they were not represented here. To that end, there was no better place for the goddess to rest her head.
Sadly, however, it was time for her to put her nose to the grindstone. A hero needed to be selected, and the perfect candidate wasn’t going to just announce themselves.
“It is finally time,” she thought to herself, “I suppose I can not put it off any longer. A difficult and exacting search must begin immediately.” With a clap of her hands, the realm rent itself apart and reformed in an instant, creating a specialized area for her pursuit. Filing cabinets and bookshelves surrounded an impractically large desk and office space. Minervica set to work immediately.
And like that, ten years passed.
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Gregory was absolutely done with Limbo. Gregory had held many different expectations about the after-life throughout his lifetime. Blissful, peaceful, torturous, arduous, and even boring, these were the adjectives he’d imagined about the afterlife in his living days at one point or another, but never, even in his most imaginative moments had he ever considered that the after-life could be this pain-stakingly tedious.
First, it was Afterlife Anonymous, a program about sharing regrets and deaths for the sake of coming to terms with them. For most, it was a safe place to work out a lot of messy emotions with people they need not worry about knowing for long. Some friendships even formed, people looking to form a support network or some connection in the wake of losing those they had in life. None of that interested Gregory. He was more concerned with the long-term future and figuring out his next step.
Apparently, that next step was utter stupidity, because he’d just quit his only limbo workshop: essay therapy. He’d known it would be a stupid class, but he’d at least expected it to be quiet and light on mandatory socializing and sharing. He’d been wrong.
The angel in charge of essay therapy had believed Gregory’s falsified past experiences easily enough, but they insisted on writing long-winded messages dripping with sympathy and offered to fast track his way through towards an advanced therapy workshop. The whole thing smelled a little sanctimonious, but it still made him feel guilty. Now he was free of workshops entirely, but that was more stress than relief.
Afterlife in Limbo was complicated, but to boil it down a person had three options: Seek judgment and be sent to a permanent afterlife, do workshops to work through old regrets and come to terms with death, or reincarnate into a new life, leaving old memories behind until you die again. Most people avoided the first option out of simple fear. The angels were overreaching chatterboxes by Gregory’s standards, but apparently they could be tight-lipped about this. They refused to answer any questions about the long-term afterlives, the judgment process for it, or even what the system of ethics they ascribed to was.
Reincarnation was the more popular option, by a large margin. After all, why risk hell or a similar style of afterlife when you can simply avoid being judged entirely? The problem was that you needed to do a fair number of workshops before you could even apply for reincarnation, and most people who applied as soon as they were eligible were rejected. You had to fulfill quite a large quota of workshops to be guaranteed reincarnation.
You could also, hypothetically, keep doing workshops indefinitely. The angels would quietly shuffle you off for judgment if you were uncooperative with their many programs, but if you kept at them, the angels wouldn’t bother you. At least, that’s what Gregory had heard, but nothing he saw contradicted it so far, and whatever his complaints, the angels had at least been true to their own rules so far.
Gregory, however, was now not in any workshops whatsoever. He couldn’t stay like this for long. He wasn’t entirely opposed to facing judgment, unlike some people; he might not have been a saint, but he hadn’t been a monster or anything. He just wanted to face it on his own terms, if at all. He wanted to at least have reincarnation as an option, if he could help it.
“Time to muddle through the selections again,” he thought to himself. He began skimming through the nearly endless workshop options again like a man opening his fridge for the fifth time in a night, hoping his options had mysteriously improved themselves out of his sight. He had a couple days of leeway, but he knew he needed to get started soon if he didn’t want a repeat of this.
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“Finally, I’ve found one,” Minervica muttered to herself as the deadline loomed over her. “And he’s perfect.” Minervica willed the dozens of books upon her desk to shut and put themselves away.
Gregory Falci had been studying the workshop listings for about twelve hours when he fell asleep. He’d only worked out three acceptable workshops, but each of them was more of a backup option than a true fit. One was a simple drawing class that focused on making mood boards their big issues, which was actually fine by itself for Gregory. However, it led into a gallery workshop that involved putting them all on display and giving speeches about them, which he found far too public and revealing for his personal comfort. He didn’t want to risk lying again, after all.
The others were a simple intro to public speaking, which was at least mortifying in a familiar way and didn’t require as much personal discussion. The last was a workshop for cooking with a focus on doing so for other people and for personal comfort. It seemed a bit more social than he’d like, but at least he knew his way around a kitchen already. After finding that course, he’d put his head down for “just a moment” and fallen asleep. He awoke, however in a strange room, a library without end filled to the brim with mumbling statues, colossal shelves, and incomprehensible amounts of books.
“Hello, Mr. Falci, welcome to my humble domain. I am a goddess and my name is Minervica.” A beautiful, bookish-looking woman with ridiculously large glasses on her face. She wore a placid smile.
“Are you always in the habit of kidnapping people for conversations,” Gregory thought to himself. To his surprise, his thoughts played aloud on a short delay. His cheeks flushed.
Minervica snickered to herself. “Sorry about that. I’ve been cooped up in here for too long I’m afraid. I needed to have a bit of fun before getting down to business. I’m a goddess of language you see, among other things. I’ll drop that spell now,” Minervica finished with a hand gesture.
“Is it off yet?” Gregory thought as clearly as possible. To his relief, it didn’t reverberate through the room again. Then aloud, “Should I take that as a yes?”
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This meeting, whatever it was, was already off to a terrible start in his eyes. If she wanted honesty, then indulging the thought she had loosed from his mind couldn’t sour things much more.
“Summoning a mortal, especially one in limbo, for a conversation is among standard procedures, yes. Unfortunately, showing too much courtesy towards mortals is seen as a sign of weakness among divines. Politics, you understand?” Minervica said.
“A sign of weakness? From simple niceties? That’s ridiculous!” Gregory barked out irritably. He’d only just realized that he hadn’t cleaned the drool from his face yet and began to clear it away. The recreation of his old body was a little messy but couldn’t get truly dirty in Limbo, so he just had to stand and dust himself off a bit to clean up.
“It is,” the goddess readily agreed, “but have you read myths? Gods are ridiculous and hostile enough towards each other, to say nothing of how they treat mortals.” She wore a solemn expression and allowed Gregory to digest this information.
He took a moment to contemplate the various mythologies he was familiar with. The gods of Greek mythology were the ones he knew best, and the Olympians had always come across as dysfunctional children playing at adulthood in all but the best of times. Egyptian gods were always more busy fighting each other than dealing with Apophis, the foretold bringer of the apocalypse. Even the Norse gods had brought about their own reckoning with Ragnarok and how they had treated Fenrir. Perhaps she had a point.
“I suppose that’s fair,” Gregory said as he finished dusting and unwrinkling himself. “What do you want me for then?”
A terrible thought occurred to him.
“I’m not being shuffled off to judgment yet am I?! I’ve been looking at new workshops to join, I swear! Hell, my face was resting on the catalog when I was brought here!” Gregory rushed to get all the words out.
“Calm down, Mr. Falci. Nothing so drastic,” she reassured. “You seemed interested in reincarnating, but weren’t a fan of our workshop program. Does that sound accurate?”
Well it wasn’t quite that simple but… “Yeah, that’s about right,” Gregory said.
Minervica gave him a big grin, it looked goofy through the distortion of her giant lenses. “In that case,” she said, “I have an opportunity for you, if you’re interested.”
“An opportunity?” he asked.
“Yes, I’d like you to reincarnate with your full memories and familiar body intact and combat a terrible scourge on a world I’m responsible for,” she said blandly, as if talking about the weather. “In short, you’d be my hero and be tasked with slaying the ultimate class of demon: the demon king.”
Gregory took longer to process all that than he’d have liked. Reincarnation? Hero? Demon king? It was all so…
“Generic,” he accidentally uttered aloud. At least he did so with his own mouth this time. He grimaced as he realized what he’d said.
“Oh good, you’re familiar with the idea, that’s become much more common these days. Sometimes successful heroes choose to reincarnate again and retell their stories, and, of course, people retell their stories within their own worlds. Between that and divine beings like angels and gods telling the stories on occasion, the idea is quite far-reaching these days,” Minervica explained.
“Still, it’s odd. I mean, why would anyone want me for a hero anyway?” Gregory couldn’t help but ask, even if it cost him the opportunity. Although, he wasn’t sure he even wanted it.
“Because you want a change of circumstances, because you died with unfulfilled ambitions of greatness, and, most of all, because you’re always thinking and observing,” she finished. “I’m a goddess of three domains: language, literature, and trade. As such, a man like you is suited to being my hero. We can arrange for the more… traditional elements of a hero to be developed with divine blessings and other boons.”
“I’m not sure that I buy that, but alright,” Gregory thought to himself.
“Two quick, important things I have to mention,” Minervica continued. “First, if you succeed in your task, you get one wish, it can be for nearly anything, within reason. Immortality, afterlife selection, infinite reincarnations, and more are on the table.”
Suddenly, the goddess had Gregory’s full attention.
“Second, I’m on a schedule that’s running behind, so I can only give you twenty minutes to decide.”
Gregory’s jaw dropped, and he felt his expectations get whiplash from the rapid changes. Before he could even begin to recover, a countdown timer appeared before him, displaying the nineteen minutes and 47 seconds he had left to decide.
Gregory didn’t know what to think; he wasn’t sure he even had time to think.
“Okay I’ll have to think about it,” he said, being sure to keep his voice steady.
“I’m sorry, but we also have to select all of your starting options within this time frame, if you choose to accept of course,” Minervica added cooly. She wore a patient, even understanding expression too, as if Gregory had all the time in the world.
He was torn. He wanted to take the deal, obviously. A wish was far too great a prize. Dying had been painful, infuriating, and even humiliating enough; he didn’t want to go through that again. Facing judgment, however, was daunting in its own way. Death had already come for him, but seeking judgment had felt far too risky in its finality.
If he succeeded in this task, he wouldn’t have to worry about either…
“What would I have to select?” he asked. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to just look over the options and select a couple; it would get him a better idea of what he was in for anyway.
“I’ll bring up the menu for you,” the goddess said with a grin.
Sure enough, a massive menu with too many sections appeared before him. He couldn’t even see the whole thing without moving back far enough that he couldn’t read the text. Worse yet, each section was just an expandable header. Options like “Race” and “Name” were a given, but with other options like “Body”, “Affinities”, “Familiar”, “Artifact” and so on, he had no context. He could guess well enough that magic existed in this otherworld, magic existing had been obvious since he woke up in Limbo, after all, but this was too much.
“You can keep your name the same for ease, if you like,” the goddess suggested with a kind smile. He suddenly had fifteen minutes remaining.
“You inconsiderate bitch,” Gregory thought. “Fine, what about race?” He only recognized two of the options on the list. What the hell was a Dhampir anyway?
“Well…” she said, taking his time, “you could continue as a human if you like, but they usually don’t live as long in less developed worlds. Elves have incredible lifespans, and killing a demon king is the type of accomplishment that marks a lifetime. There is no urgent need here, in the mortal sense, to complete your task, so I think Elf would be a good choice for you.”
It may have been Gregory’s imagination, but it felt like she was speaking incredibly slowly. He selected “Elf” before she had even finished her last sentence. The next selection was “Affinities”.
“What are Affinities?” Gregory asked.
Minervica began what felt like would be a long-winded explanation about the nature of affinities and magic, but Gregory cut her off and just asked for a quick summary.
“Well, to put it simply, they are your soul’s talents for magic,” she drawled. “However, the more you have, the less specialized you become; I recommend you stick with one or two.”
Gregory browsed the hundreds, if not thousands, of affinities listed, but he ended up selecting two of the ones that came recommended for him by the menu. “Sword” and “Water” would have to do. Three minutes remaining.
If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t ready to be judged, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to live another ordinary life either. He couldn’t walk away from an opportunity like this, a chance to literally decide his fate. It was too great to pass up.
“I accept your task, Minervica, I’ll be your Hero,” Gregory declared, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
“That’s wonderful,” Minervica responded warmly. “We still have a lot to get through, however…”
Two minutes remaining.
“Yes, can you just… pick out options that you’d recommend?” he asked sheepishly.
She grinned. “Of course.”
Suddenly, the menu flashed through impossible speed checking option after option before Gregory could even register what was happening, let alone read the selections. After the final option was selected, the menu shrank to one single block.
Confirm Selections? Yes No
With only thirty seconds remaining on the clock, he forced himself to press “Yes” at a measured pace. He couldn’t risk the chance of “No” resetting the whole process.
“Excellent,” Minervica said as her grin widened.
Suddenly, the floor beneath Gregory fell away and took him with it. He began falling through a void of darkness before losing consciousness.
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Gregory woke up with a start. Suddenly, he was awake in a strange new form. He could feel his ears were longer and pointed. His body was more lithe, but its texture was like bark. He went to run his hands through his hair.
NO.
Something was missing.
No no no no no no no no no no no no.
He could only feel one hand running through his hair.
His left arm was gone.