Parry crossed the threshold and stepped into nothing, a swirling darkness, disorienting, featureless, familiar. The voice that greeted him felt like some travesty of friendship, something curdled and obscene.

"Oh good, you're back," it mocked, thick with contempt. "And you're strong. Very strong. Look at you, over-achieving. I'm impressed."

Parry felt his breath hot under the helm, and reflexes honed over five decades made him grip Foundation's hilt more tightly. He ground his teeth.

"Get on with it."

Bitter laughter flowed from all directions and none. "This is our only chance to talk, haven't you missed me? Did you enjoy my world? I lost track of how many times I nearly killed you."

"Nearly."

"Be as laconic as you want, you've earned it. Quite the sword you've got there, only the second time you've brought that--wait, third? And your head is just seething with spells. All seven Ugly Words. Your armor too, my oh my. I should be afraid."

Parry let the taunts roll over him. "You made the play pen, I took the best toys I found," he shot back. He permitted himself a smile. "I've got a lot of memories back, too. Maybe all of them. Thousands of lives."

There was a swirl of silence, but that might be a bluff too. "Wonderful! Do you have a favorite?"

Parry debated ending the banter here. Who got an advantage, the more they talked? How many times have they volleyed this false friendly conversation? "This was a very good one. Love my wife. You took one of my sons, but the other two are fine, handsome, skilled. I'm proud of them."

"You're proud of fictions? It's not real, Parry. You're playing with my dolls. Loving them is insanity."

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"It's real to me!" the shout was swallowed by the inky nothingness. "You can't take that away." No no no, this isn't how it needs to go.

"Fierce. Determined. I suppose you're ready for our fight, then?"

Dammit.

He'd ceded the initiative, and his enemy wasn't going to give it back. Already the letters sprang up in the air:

Destroy the Creator? (y/n):

Parry unclenched one hand. "This ridiculous system, I can feel your misplaced pride in it. Magic, chivalry, monsters, fairies, this world of yours doesn't fit with statistics, levels and command lines. It's jarring and tone deaf."

"You're stalling."

He was--there had to be something more he could wring out of this one-and-only chance to confront the Creator. He held his hand up, cursing under his breath at his own adrenaline, his own fear, his own hope. Tian would laugh at him, wouldn't she? In her fur collar, enjoying pickled walnuts from the plate beside their bed...

He had to be strong enough by now. To destroy the Creator, get out of his infinite theme park, back to...back to...

Each time it was a little harder to remember the start. After six thousand lives...seven, eight?...home was a myth. New York, school, cars, his brother. Wait, you never had a brother. Mom and Dad were dead--no, Lord Parry was slain fighting a glow wyrm, his concubine was...

Every life eroded a little more of who Parry was.

"Please pick 'yes,'" that grotesque voice wheedled. "It'll be such fun to fight you."

Sword master Gavil would say, Discover what your enemy wants and do the opposite. But was this a bluff, or a double bluff, or a triple...

It's like The Princess Bride, Parry thought wryly.

"It's fine," intruded that hateful voice. "You're incredibly strong. There's no sorcery or art you haven't mastered. Every continent, even the ice caps, you've more than cleared them. You've doubtlessly found every clue you left yourself. What's left? I'm right here."

What a lie. It's false praise meant to sow doubt. It's the transparent trick of a spoiled child. But what if that's the intent?

"No."

"No?"

"No." It suddenly seemed so clear. "I have you. I know all your tricks. My next life will be even more efficient. I'll have even more strength. I'll find things you've forgotten about and sharpen them into weapons. I'll show you terror and despair. I'll pull you out of this void and crush you under my heel."

Parry touched "n" and the void held a breath.

"Well then." The voice was almost flat. Was that tone satisfaction or fear? Relief or concern? "Let's do this again."