> Cravens of all ages agree on this one thing: Rules are stupid.

>

> — Craven’s Journal, chapter 889, page 10,443

Rin’s eyes fluttered open.

He was seated in a leather wingback chair, wearing a plush robe. His right hand cradled a cup of steaming hot broth, although he had no idea how it got there. Craven sat opposite him in a similar chair, wearing an identical robe, his eyes glinting with merry mischief. A black book rested in one hand, his trademark long-stemmed pipe in the other.

“There you are!” The god brimmed with genuine enthusiasm. “What a performance! Masterful indeed, my dear boy! And so glad to see you survived.” The god pointed the pipe’s stem at Rin. “A fact that cannot be overstated.”

Rin took in his surroundings. They were seated before a crackling fire in a stone hearth, but beyond that lay absolute darkness. The only objects he could see were the two chairs, the fire, and a tattered woolen rug splayed between all three. For all he knew, they could be anywhere in the kingdom. Despite that disturbing thought, he felt a pervasive sense of safety.

“Where am I?”

Craven casually waved a hand. “A dimension of no importance. The better question is why? Why are you here? Do you know?”

Rin’s stumped expression was an answer all by itself.

“Alright, I’ll tell you,” said the god. “You won, dear boy. You won the Game of the Gods!”

“I … what? How can I have won? I only started a few weeks ago.”

“Aha, that is the nature of my path. It is difficult to secure a champion, but once they discover Craven’s path to power, their rise is meteoric indeed.” The god waved his pipe enthusiastically. “You completed the three challenges, the ultimate measurement of a god’s champion. And what a splendid affair it was! You didn’t follow the actions I anticipated at all. Watching you was pure joy!”

“I-I’m confused. What did you expect?”

“Well, in the first challenge against the Terracotta Drake, I predicted you would use your Smash Hat to great effect. It’s a perfect counter against the brittle nature of clay. Instead, you were enamored with the Murder Chicken—an understandable temptation, albeit a dangerous one, since I specifically geared the drake to resist lightning attacks. You got lucky, my boy. If you hadn’t equipped your chicken horde with those clever little shoes, the battle would have gone quite differently.”

Rin winced. “I guess you’re right.”

“No matter! It makes for excellent theatrics. I thought you were a goner, yet your results speak for themselves.”

Craven leaned back into his chair, clearly enjoying himself. “In the second challenge, you were supposed to use the raven’s Death Ray. That’s what I counted on. The Death Ray’s effects can’t be healed via health potion, you see. That attack would have struck the arrogant Lord Easton right where it hurts: in his vanity. Once his face melted off, he would have been a blubbering mess, especially after finding his health potions couldn’t remedy the look.”

Rin was stunned. It sounded like the duel with Easton would have been easy if he’d only picked the right ability. He’d never considered using the raven’s Death Ray, thinking it would be too weak to make a difference.

He folded his arms, feeling slightly attacked.

How was I supposed to know that about the health potions?

Craven noticed his body language and gave him a warm smile, cocking his head. “Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not chiding you. Why, your way was better! You lost the battle but won the war. And using my own poison ring, no less! An exceptional strategy, to be sure.”

Rin relaxed. “Thanks. And what about the third challenge?”

“There, the intended solution was to use the journal I gave you.” The god playfully slapped the book in his hand against Rin’s arm. “It nullifies any attack. You knew that but didn’t put the pieces together.”

“I don’t get it. Even if I nullified one of those giant water jets, what then?”

“The Girgatrike would have given you its undivided attention. It would have chased you to the ends of the continent.”

“But why is that a good thing?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“You only needed to save the kingdom, dear boy. As soon as you led it over the mountains, the challenge would have been complete. That’s what typically happens.”

“You mean this has happened before?”

“Well, yes. Every few centuries, one of the gods’ champions makes it to the final challenge somewhere in the world. It’s been a while since your kingdom had a solid showing, but the Steppe mountains have taken quite the beating over the years.” The god’s eyes twinkled. “But leading the monster away didn’t even enter your mind, did it? You dove in and took the thing down yourself, a level 390 goliath type! Sheer madness! Why, even Ronin, the god of battle, said he loved it, and we haven’t been on speaking terms in ages! And I mean ages quite literally.”

Rin adjusted his seating, feeling discomfited by the god’s eagerness. “I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t really thinking. I just acted on impulse.” He paused, unsure of what to say next. “So what happens now? The game’s over?”

“Only for you, only for you. The other gods will continue to guide their champions as best they can, while I move on to greener pastures.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Ascending is the phrase, and yes. Happy to have made my little contribution to this place, brief though it was.” The god peered about at the darkness as if looking for something he’d forgotten to pack.

“But you can’t go. What would happen to the world without you? You’re Craven.”

“Aha,” said the god, raising his forefinger. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not Craven. You are.” Rin’s continued confusion caused the god to throw up his hands. “Didn’t you read the journal?”

“It was thousands of pages long!”

“Yes, but it should have been clear after reading just a few entries. There have been countless Cravens since the dawn of time. Each of us adds our suggestions to the journal, making it a compilation for the ages. You won the game. You’re the new Craven. It’s as simple as that.”

Rin was silent, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He struggled to object, unable to find the right words.

“Don’t worry,” said Craven. “You’ll figure it out, just as I did. Take as long as you like to adjust. It took me several centuries. I spent most of that time traveling the world making dungeon maps, like the one in your inventory.”

“You can do that? At the same time as being a god, I mean? I would think you’re too busy being … I dunno … godly.”

“Of course! You can do whatever you want. And you can add your unique twist to the Game in order to woo potential candidates. My angle was dungeon flowers and Transmutation, as you’re well aware, but you can architect anything that works within the game’s boundaries. The other gods have a certain amount of veto power to your machinations, but besides that, anything goes.

“In fact, one particular Craven 5,000 years ago held an unnerving fascination with moth pupae. He demanded his followers collect rare and exotic larvae which granted them strange powers.” The god shrugged. “Us Cravens always were the odd ducks. The one thing uniting us is our desire to bend the rules. To play outside the box, so to speak.”

Rin’s mind spun. “The other gods are mortals too?”

“They were mortals. Now they’re gods. You’ll meet them soon enough. Once I’m gone, I’m sure they’ll introduce themselves.” The god grimaced. “We aren’t exactly on friendly terms. It turns out they hate it when you transmute into a fly and sneak about their dimension, stealing their secrets.” The god swallowed. “There may have also been an unfortunate incident when I stumbled upon Nymera looking rather indisposed.” He raised his hands, looking panicked. “It was an accident—I swear it!”

Craven’s gaze grew distant while Rin squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

“That’s when it all fell apart for me, my boy. I would advise you to keep in the good graces of the other gods. That tip is for free.” The god lowered his voice and peered over his spectacles. “Also, my marketing of the poison ring was terrible. Don’t do that.”

With a flourish, the god replaced the black book in his hands with Craven’s journal. “It’s all here, in chapter 1190. That’s where my contribution begins.” The god waggled his eyebrows. “You’re going to love it.” He snapped his fingers, and Trixie appeared, hovering beside them with a look of surprise. “And don’t forget your eternal companion, courtesy of yours truly. A gift of supreme foresight, if I do say so myself.”

Craven tilted his head, wincing. “Now, technically, I’m not supposed to pressure you into this decision. So I took the liberty of eliminating all that nasty business with House Cartwright for you. If you decline my offer, I would be supremely disappointed, of course, but you shouldn’t receive any more trouble from them.”

“Oh.” Rin’s eyebrows shot up. “Thanks.”

The god flapped his hand as if dispersing the thought from the air. “A trivial matter. The less of that talk, the better. You should be thinking ahead, not behind. The future is yours! You can be a god if you only say yes.” Craven leaned forward in his seat, looking hopeful. “So what will it be?”

Rin clutched his chin as his eyes darted in thought. “I can do whatever I want?”

“Yes! There is but one rule. You cannot ascend without a successor that has completed the Game of the Gods.”

A notification appeared in Rin’s mind.

You have been offered the godship of Craven. Do you accept?

The thought of visiting his parents in the mountains bubbled to the forefront of Rin’s mind. He imagined popping into existence and frightening his uncle Percy. He thought of all the places he could explore without fear of harm, the dimensions Craven had mentioned, and what it would be like to venture into the unknown. All with Trixie by his side, adventuring through thick and thin.

Rin’s face of consternation melted into a smile. He expressed his will to the game.

I accept.