“I told you they weren’t talking like that anymore! What idiot thinks that language doesn’t evolve and grow over time? Dumbass!” Stories crowed as he hovered over Order.

It was rather amusing watching the mortal being stare at her bewilderedly like she’d just announced that she was sleeping with his father. That amusement was further enhanced by the fact that the self-proclaimed God of Knowledge was actively humiliating herself with a series of meaningless vocalisations that forced her face into wacky contortions, ultimately culminating in her admitting defeat by resorting to activating her ability again.

“Who’s wasting divine energy now? Moron!”

“Quiet.” Order hissed angrily through gritted teeth. The taunting from that annoying apparition didn’t much help her with this next step of persuading the mortal to agree to the terms of the experiment, and her ego was bruised enough already without him heaping on more insults to her intelligence.

“How about it?”

Grendle didn’t know what to say. The stranger proved herself to be at least on par with the strongest of the Warriors. He could hardly count on one hand the number of dwarven elite who could down a wild rocktin alone and with such speed. But the offer seemed fishy in and of itself; wouldn’t you be cautious of some weirdo coming up to you with offers of betterment, while hiding their true intentions?

“What do you mean by that, exactly? Transcend my body?” he replied, curiously. Fortunately for Order, she’d unknowingly hit the proverbial nail on the head with Grendle; a proposition to enhance one’s constitution would have gone unheard if it was extended to any other Farmer that she might have met. Maybe even turned down with a scoff, followed by the dwarf exiting stage left.

But time had yet to smother the dream that this particular dwarf had of becoming an Acquirer, like it did to so many other Farmers before him. And if the chance to get out of the reject pile was presenting itself to him unasked as it did at this very moment, it was only natural to inquire on the specifics, no?

“My associate believes that I should… elaborate on my proposal further. And of course, clarify the nature of what I will be providing you. Informed consent.” The lady cleared her throat. “Firstly, you may address me as the God of Order and Knowledge. I am a member of a pantheon of deities that govern every aspect of the world that you know.”

Ok, so this lady was a mental case. Grendle kicked himself for not seeing the signs. Why else would there be a stranger all the way out here, where danger abounded? She was probably a descendant of past dwarven exiles that had simply gone mad, having to fight beast after beast to survive, and eventually concocting a narrative in a bid to reconcile her deformities with the hostile climate she was born into, that she had to be a higher tier being if no creature that she’d encountered could best her.

But.

There was always the possibility that she wasn’t lying. There was that glowy thing, with her hands, wasn’t there? It could perhaps be explained away as a parlor trick; she could have concealed a lightstone in the palm of her hand, and scratched it with a fingernail while she was drawing attention away with her show of grunting.

On the off chance that she was telling the truth, it wouldn’t hurt to listen a little further to what she was proposing.

Just in case.

He was as safe as he was going to be anyways, sitting here next to a skilled warrior that could instantly lay flat a deadly beast like a wild rocktin.

“Oh… kay… so, Miss God-of-Order-and-Knowledge. How exactly are you going to carry out this, “transcending”? Do I need to drink something? Or do that weird chanting that you did just now?”

“No, no chanting or imbibements. And that was ancient Dwarvish - I mistakenly assumed that your people would be fluent in this still. But that’s not what’s important here. There is a chance, a not insignificant one, that the effects of the process may cause some… unexpected alterations to your personage.”

Grendle arched an eyebrow. “Unexpected… how?”

“Well, I’d rather not be telling you this; it would be better to conceal this information until after we’ve already completed the infusion.” Order bit her lip as she considered hiding the results of their previous test anyways. The new rules that Stories had insisted upon would demolish any chances that the test would go through if every subject needed to be told what would happen.

“But… informed consent is informed consent. Our… previous experiment subject had to be put down because they mutated into a beast that rampaged and eventually caused the collapse of their civilisation. It’s also the reason why we’ve added sturdier restraints to our testing procedure.” Order produced a silver tube from behind her back, and flicked it outwards, allowing the contraption to unfold and collapse into a metal cage. “But… the point I’m trying to make is: if the procedure fails in its intended purpose, if the process doesn’t produce the desired effects, we may have to… terminate. Your life, specifically. To prevent an outbreak of the infection like before.”

Grendle’s face paled. “Infection? The thing you’re planning to do to me, that thing that can turn people into mindless beasts can spread? Why would anyone agree to that?”

That’s right, Stories, Order grumbled to herself. Why would any mortal think that was an acceptable cost of improvement? She watched impatiently as the dwarf pondered the offer. He was bound to say no; this was why she wanted to negotiate with some dwarven leader for a prisoner of some sort, someone that was already on death row. Someone who dwarven society wouldn’t blink an eye if they had to murder.

But the next words that she heard come from the mouth of the dwarf surprised her.

“Ok. If there’s a chance that I’ll become stronger… then fine.”

“Really? You did hear the part where I’ll be ending your life if you turn into some monstrous creature, correct?”

“Yeah,” Grendle nodded. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to become an Acquirer. If this experiment of hers could give that to him, he’d be willing to risk his life for it. Better to burn bright for an instant, than small and unnoticed.

“Because if you refused, I would have prepared a small fortune in precious stones for your loved ones. To sweeten the pot, so to speak.” Order jiggled a pouch by her waist, which clattered with what sounded like several heavy pebbles clacking against each other.

Stolen novel; please report.

Grendle gulped.

“I mean… if you’re offering, I’m not about to turn down jewels.” He stretched out a hand and smiled, embarrassedly. Order plucked the pouch from her belt and handed it over. It wasn’t any skin off her back; it wasn’t like Gods had an economy that valued these. She’d find something to replace the rocks she’d swiped from Greed later.

Already the dwarf could feel from the heft of the pouch that the stones were dense; much heavier than any gem he’d ever been fortunate enough to hold. But he knew better than to get his hopes up. They could have been uncut jewels, for all he knew. The weight was probably supplemented by the worthless rock the gems themselves were embedded in. With a shaky finger, he pulled open the drawstrings of the pouch - and was greeted with an otherworldly sight. Flawlessly cut jewels, each the size of a rocktin feed pellet, but the stones themselves were clear, all the way through. No imperfections. Just clear, crystalline perfection.

They certainly weren’t as big as the Ruby Eye, but the amount alone was equivalent to several hauls of Acquirer teams over the period of months.

“… you’re certain there’s a possibility that I’ll get stronger? Strong enough to go spelunking?”

“That’s the plan, yes. If the infusion confers onto you increased strength and vitality as I’ve calculated, then there won’t be an issue with you returning to your colony and passing on the alteration. On the other hand, if it goes awry… you understand what that means, right?”

He stared at the female, alternating occasionally to look at the pouch weighing down his palm. This God of Order and Knowledge already proved that she could do the impossible. The dead rocktin corpse at their feet, and the logic-defying gems he was holding was testament to that. If she was telling the truth about that, why would she lie about her offer?

Grendle steeled his nerves as he proceeded to make the only decision in his life that he truly believed in.

“Let’s do it.”

==============================================

The so-called infusion didn’t take as long as Grendle had expected. In fact, it went by in a blink of an eye. He was expecting some magical machine that’d strip his skin off entirely and replace it with a new coat of protein and fat, but all the experiment entailed was him standing there and letting Adaptability do his thing. Sure, he was a little startled at the sight of two disembodied palms showing up on his chest, but other than that, it was nothing he couldn’t handle. An slightly unpleasant warmth that covered his body for the five minutes the process took. Akin to the humidity underground after a light drizzling.

“So,” Grendle said, obediently walking into the cage and latching it shut. “How long till we’ll know?”

“Seven hours. Which, of course, gives us plenty of time to go into the intricacies of dwarven society.” Order removed her notebook from its strap and flipped to an empty page. “Let’s start with sustenance. Do your people still indulge in cannibalism? Because that was all the rage when I was last here.”

“Damned Order,” Stories whined as he inspected a chunk of lightstone a few metres away from the testing grounds. He glanced over at the cage, watching as Order continued to record down intently the dwarven minutiae that Grendle was telling her. She’d made him promise not to wander off too far, so that he could step in if she needed another pair of hands to handle the resultant creature. “So she gets to do what she wants, but I can’t go exploring the dwarven catacombs? The injustice! Right, Adaptabili-“ Stories looked around, but his junior was gone.

Finally, he spotted the coward a distance away, half-phased into the sand with only the top half of his head poking through.

“Loosen up, dude. I don’t know who those people you think are after you are, but surely they won’t risk a confrontation with two other Gods, right?” The mummified head shook from side to side.

“…you don’t know what they’re capable of. For all you know they’re right here, watching for when I finally drop my guard.”

Stories sighed. “Look, I don’t really care what you think. I personally feel that you’re just being over-dramatic; nobody’s coming after you! But I’m only talking to you because there’s like, six and a half hours more to kill. So let’s play a game: I’ll say a random word, and whatever letter it ends with, you continue on with another word. Ready? Rock.”

The mummy didn’t reply. Welp, Stories thought to himself. Can’t say I didn’t try. Maybe there’s something a little more interesting on this rock of a planet other than glowy stones and piggies. But as he turned to leave, a faint sound caught his attention.

“…kraken.”

It was soft, but unmistakeable – the introvert had spoken. Stories smiled. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. All he needed was to interact more with others and maybe with time he’d put the whole “pursuers” nonsense behind him.

“Alrighty then… Nettle.”

In this way, the three Gods passed the time, bantering and scribbling down notes, until it was finally time.

Time for the results of the experiment to be revealed.

“Seven hours on the dot. Do you feel anything different?” Order queried the dwarf, eyeing him over best she could as he huddled up in the cage.

“Nope, nothing’s changed. Are you sure your friend did the right thing?” Grendle flexed his arm tentatively. Yeah, he didn’t feel stronger like she’d promised; nor did he think that his other senses were being enhanced.

Order frowned, leaning forward and studying the grey complexion of the mortal before her. “It doesn’t make sense… the infusion should-“

She stopped abruptly mid-sentence. Grendle took it to mean that she’d finally spotted the beginnings of the improvements that were made.

“What? Is something happening? Tell me what. Is it a good thing?”

Order wordlessly pointed to his shoulder.

The dwarf looked over to find that the arm had fallen off - and was now disintegrating into a puddle of thick, dark-green liquid at his feet. All that was left of his right arm was a gooey stump that was likely still in the process of following the rest of the arm to its new home on the cage floor.

Grendle turned to look at Order as he clutched the stump with his left hand. With a face filled with anxiety, he uttered the last word he would ever say with his lips.

“Help.”

Then the remaining bulk of the dwarf melted into the green sludge all at once.