“Ara... Ara... Ara.-”

“Arahan.” I said in an insistent, yet non-confrontational manner. The goddess smiled. Her finger, with it's elegantly painted nail, traced its way down the page she was looking at before finally landing on my name.

“Let's see.” She tapped my name on the paper. The thick book morphed into a much thinner closed file that I dreaded even looking at.

“Well.” She began, looking up from it briefly and subtly to give me a judging glance from across the desk.

“Not a lot here, is there?” She said while exhaling. For effect she waved at up and down, fanning it to show just how flimsy it was. The sentence and action was punctuated by her tongue clicking sharply to make 'ch..' sound. She opened the file with one hand while smoothly lifting a pair of reading glasses to balance on her perfect nose. She obviously did not need them, but they added to an overall aesthetic that she was trying to portray. She leaned on the hand that raised the thin, wire-frame glasses and tapped the side of her jaw as she read.

“Ara... Ara... Ara...” Just as I was about to open my mouth she smiled and said it correctly.

“Arahan. What have you been doing for all these years to have a file this thin?” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, hesitant to answer. It was the feeling you get when the critique that you receive is something you have been considering deeply for quite a while. Annoyance, mixed with shame.

The woman that sat across from me in a much larger and more comfortable chair was an A Class Goddess; Michelle. One of the middle-managers of the world that I happen to be a part of. The grade, though I would've never said this to her face, meant she was without a doubt a complete psychopath above all other psychopaths, except for her boss of course. In contrast to that, her appearance was divine. Elegant white wings, gently feathered platinum blonde hair that fell around her shoulders. Pale, porcelain-like skin. Though she painted her nails a telling blood-red color, her lips and face did not need makeup, because she had the blush of life and beauty on both. Her piercing eyes were like cross-hairs as they centered on me questioningly.

“Well?” She reiterated in an unenthused tone. She did not want to be having this meeting to the same extent as me, likely. Well, probably not the same extent. I was deathly afraid because of what was at stake for me. For her, I was just a mark on her record. An under-performer that needed 'managing.'

“Killing people just isn't really my... Thing.” I finally admitted.

She relaxed slightly and offered a friendly, relieved smile. It was warm and made me feel at ease until she stated something so extremely harsh in a paradoxically affectionate tone.

“So you're just completely fucking useless, aren't you?” I opened my mouth and croaked since I could not find the words to argue, or even respond.

“Zero kills in a thousand years since your spark was ignited by the great MERCY of the divine and you spent it doing... What?” She leaned over the desk, as if inviting some sense of intimacy, but despite her open body language and warm tone, her smile shifted to a smirk which betrayed all of that and hinted to the deeply demeaning tint to her intent.

“You lived through the crusades?” I nod.

“Nothing.” She looked down at the file, there were not many pages to go through.

“People basically throwing themselves to their death in those centuries.” She shook her head in disbelief as she stared me down. I lowered mine.

“P-preferred the renaissance.” I mutter.

“Huh!?” She asked harshly.

“Nothing!” I quickly disavowed what was said, which seemed to placate her.

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“Renaissance...” She scoffed in disbelief.

“And now? Everyone is depressed. They WANT to live different lives and you can't even help make that happen? What's going on Ara... Ara... Ar-a-han?” She asked. There was a legitimate desire to know, but I could also sense more than a hint of mockery at that point.

“I don't wanna be responsible for someone else dying.” I clarified.

“That's fine.” The A Class Goddess leaned back and crossed one leg over the other before resting her hands on her knees. The file lay open in front of her still, but she was no longer looking at it. Her statement brought me very little comfort.

“So... Someone has to die and maybe it should just be you?” She offered casually in a sweet tone with a light shrug.

“I don't wanna die, either!” I said desperately, leaning forward to challenge her leaned back pose. The goddess tilted her head to one side curiously. I could sense what she was going to say.

“I don't wanna die, but I don't wanna kill, either.” I hung my head. I knew it was asking too much.

“But you must. We're movers... We exist and were created, not connected by the strings of fate, specifically so that we could move and affect others in ways that normally would not be possible. I did not think I would need to explain this to even an F Class Goddess, but apparently that is the case? You do not get to just be alive for free, you know. You exist for a purpose. A DIVINE purpose.” She gushed as she spoke the word divine once more. It made me blush, because it felt like she got some type of pleasure from saying it. The Goddess stopped and looked at me with real sympathy for the first time since the meeting began.

“Am I getting through to you?” I was not sure how to answer. She raised one finger up. I followed it with my eyes curiously.

“One kill. If you can get one kill you've already justified your existence for another thousand years.” Michelle sighed.

“I should not do this, but I can not stand to have an F Class under me that is not at least trying. When it comes down to it, even a re-appropriation of your spark is going to be a mark against my eventual promotion, so...” She opened a drawer that was just out of sight and began rifling through a set of folders.

“So.. I don't have to die?” I asked hopefully.

“I am not saving you, Arahan. I am throwing you a bone.” She smiled and tossed a single page across the desk. It skidded and landed in my lap.

“You just need to taste a bit of blood. You have been stuck In a rut. For some reason you never got started and that is probably what has gone wrong.” Michelle explained softly. Her tone shifted in an instant to be rather uncaring and accusatory as she asked.

“Unless there is something wrong with your head?”

I gulped. “No no! Y-you're probably right, Ma'am.”

“Good.” She leaned forward, resting both elbows on the desk as she craned her head over to view the page she slid over to me. One hand extended down to point.

“We have here a prime candidate. Loser. Loner. Gamer. His life is going nowhere. He fits the bill for someone that has intense regrets and emotions around wishing for a better life.” She stopped explaining for a second and stared at me pointedly.

“Don't think of it as killing... You are going to push this character to kill himself, or die in some fashion. Think of it like helping along the inevitable. All you need to do is be there and have some small part in it. A year should be enough time?”

“It should, yeah.” I agree, staring absentmindedly at the fat, printed face of my mark. The man who's life I needed to end for my own sake. I clutched the page tightly and convinced myself it would be easy. Almost even 'ethical.' If the man really wanted to live a better life I may be doing him a favor, and if an accident were to happen and he were to die through some means... Well, that would be unfortunate but the blood would not be on my hands, per say. I had no idea.