An air of disbelief came over the battlefield—and also smugness on the demons’ side. They were right all along.

It was a hard lesson for the World Elves to accept. Meanwhile, the Order of the True Goddess celebrated their political victory, and the Alliance of the World Tree ended up with bruised egos. Still not as bruised as the World Elves’, though.

Now, the Lockpick Hero, Archangel, and Demon Queen were in the same room, staring at the Holy Control Panel.

The update progress moved from 99 to 100%, and the screen finally appeared.

…and the Archangel immediately restarted it.

The World Tree shook, and a pulse of energy danced all along the exosphere, across the whole world. Auroras danced in the sky for a few fleeting seconds, before being sucked back into the World Tree.

Things continued as they were, as if nothing had changed.

“It was so easy…” Fraise sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” The Archangel was about to smash her head into the floor for the N-th time today, so Fraise stopped her.

“Look, girl, I understand. We all make mistakes.”

“Millions of people died over this! Look, the blood outside is still unwashed!”

“Boohoo. Will you cry, little girl? This is the burden of a leader.”

The Archangel just stayed quiet. Fraise might have hurt her too much with those words, but her pride wouldn’t let her take it back. If the girl didn’t have what it takes, then she should just switch jobs.

“Thank you,” a voice said, serene, and all around them.

Immediately, Fraise and the Archangel knelt, and before them materialized the Goddess of Sera. She ignored the two, walking straight towards the Lockpick Hero.

“With the World Tree refreshed, I am free to exercise my power over my world. I have also determined the nature of the Third Seal. The lock is the World Tree, itself.”

The Archangel shot to her feet. “My goddess! You can’t possibly be suggesting”—

“I am,” the goddess said. She turned back to the Lockpick Hero. “As promised, this is my gift to you. Unlock the Third Seal, and punish the god that has inconvenienced us both—and return to your world. I trust that you will exercise utmost care.”

The Lockpick Hero never breaks things on accident.

For three days and three nights, he studied the structure of the World Tree. The Archangel hovered closely over his shoulder, making absolutely sure he wasn’t doing anything that would break it. She was useful to him, too, having intimate knowledge of its innermost workings as its caretaker for many thousands of years.

The day of the Unbinding came.

For three days and three nights, creatures of the depths and the skies—servants of the trickster god—assaulted the World Tree. Once again, armies fought, but this time alongside each other, and this time, towards the same goal: spiting the god who reigned a thousand years of bad jokes on them.

Finally, the Third Seal was broken. The Lockpick Hero…was truly immortal.

“Thank you for freeing me from my collar, Hero,” Fraise said. “I will forgive you for your mistake that one time.”

The Lockpick Hero died a little inside. “Thanks, I’ll do my best to forget.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Next, the Archangel went to him. “My name is…Aranel,” she said, at once nervous and embarrassed—cringeful of a thousand years of black history. “Thank you for…enlightening me.”

The Lockpick Hero smiled. “Let’s do our best to forget.”

Finally, as the battle in the forest still raged, the Goddess of Sera showed him the place where the trickster god hid. It was protected by insurmountable obstacles and obfuscations, but in front of the Lockpick Hero, who simply walked in a straight line, they were naught but fun exercises and monetizable content.

The trickster god watched as the Lockpick Hero neared his home, in the Hypergame, where everything was a game. Here, he would make his last stand, for here, he was Master.

***

The Lockpick Hero tore through the fabric of heaven itself, and the trickster god was there, waiting for him. He clapped. “An amazing show!” he said.

Before he could say anything more, the Lockpick Hero pointed at him. “I challenge you to a game.” In this place, everything was a game. You couldn’t do anything if a game wasn’t involved.

The trickster god was shocked, the initiative was stolen from right under him! Never mind that, but what was this silly mortal—well, he was immortal now, wasn’t he—thinking about challenging the trickster god at a game? He smiled. “What game is this, pray tell?” If it’s a game, he would win it.

“Easy,” the Lockpick Hero explained. “The first one who unlocks forbidden knowledge wins. The winner lives, the loser dies.”

The trickster god had no idea what the angle was here. Uncovering forbidden knowledge would necessarily mean death from going mad, and there had only ever been one instance when any entity did that and lived!

The first one to uncover forbidden knowledge would die. The loser is the true winner here, of course! That’s so obvious!

“I accept,” he said. Now, he might have been called a trickster god, but he wasn’t particularly smart. Really, he had survived this long because smarter gods and goddesses had been forced to prioritize fixing the damage his mindless chaos had caused, and he would dunk out of the local galactic cluster before they could catch him!

The game started. “I win,” the Lockpick Hero said.

Although the trickster god allowed the Lockpick Hero to accomplish it first, he was still shocked at the sheer speed of it. He turned to the Lockpick Hero, just in time to see the swirling, writhing mass of something breaking into the Hypergame, feeling around and looking for its victim.

This is it, the trickster god thought, the Lockpick Hero is dead.

—But the dark appendages shot out towards him, instead!

“Wh—how?!” he blurted out. Forbidden knowledge filled his mind, about universes above even their own.

“I just said unlock. I didn’t say to look at it.”

At the time when the Goddess of Sera filled the Lockpick Hero’s mind with all the knowledge of reality she possessed, this was one very simple rule: Do not look at forbidden knowledge.

With that done, the Lockpick Hero tore a hole straight out of the Hypergame, leaving the trickster god to writhe and suffer, and eventually, to die. He’d expected more of a fight out of the guy, but it turned out he was just a big brand, nothing more or less special about him.

He was finally back at home, back to the familiar. To come from the chaos of that place, only to suddenly be in silence and right at home...was strange. The only proof that that whole escapade wasn’t a grand delusion was the other world’s adventurer gear, stained in dirt, still on him.

The nearest digital clock indicated that no time had passed at all, between his being whisked off to Sera and coming back here—both the date and time were right. There was a padlock on the table before him. His overhead recording setup was raring to go. His usual lock-picking set was stowed away somewhere, but he had a thought.

He looked down at the palm of his hand, and there, materialized in his hand, was just the right pick for the job. Nice. Maybe he could bring his wife on a nice and relaxing vacation around Sera once she’s free.

He sat down by the table, padlock and magic lockpick ready. He had been away for two months with reference to his own time frame, adventuring in another world, and now, he was back here. Shouldn’t he be more frazzled? No. He was a man who couldn’t be stopped, and nothing could stand in his way. He was just a guy, doing what he could do, yet confident in himself that, eventually, something would click. He could live life here—or he could live anywhere. All doors were open for him, now.

But that’s what was so paralyzing, wasn’t it? There were so many possibilities now, he didn’t know what to do. He’d carried something with him from that world, and he didn’t know what it was. Something in him…was binding.

He chuckled to himself. What’s with the melodrama? He was the most determined attacker in two worlds. His wife rejected him six times before they got married, and he could’ve kept that number going as long as he wanted.

Yeah. That’s right. He’ll always keep on going.

He breathed in deeply, and pressed a button on the overhead camera, starting the recording. “This is the Lock Picking Lawyer”—he said, a little tired. He let a sigh escape, letting go of a whole world’s worth of worry—”and oh boy, do I have a story.”

—End—