"Bull. Shit." I enunciate slowly for The Voice to get the message in full.

The Voice patronizingly replies, "You seem to believe that hashing out deals between gods is something that is easy and cheap. I assure you, obtaining the guarantee you seek will put me through substantial expense, far more than what the codex is worth."

I shake my head ruefully. The Voice is back at its old games of misdirection. I have no doubt that its telling the truth about the cost regarding my request, or at the very least part of the truth. What The Voice is trying to slip past me is the actual profit it stands to gain from our arrangement. Profit that has yet to be accounted for in its calculations.

"You said it yourself," I shoot back, "The Hero needs to succeed for you to remain this world's administrator."

"Just so." The Voice agrees, "How is that relevant to our negotiations, Transmigrator?"

"If not for my past and future effort," I challenge, "you would not be able to retain your place in this world. The very fact that we are quibbling about balancing the books means that you can afford to grease the hands of my world's administrator once your victory is secure. Grease that my work directly contributes towards."

Smirking with confidence, I press forwards, "If I wasn't here, the Hero would have been sent down one of Fate's divergence points long ago. You would not be able to escape the doom Fate had planned for you through the codex. Are you saying your position and life are worth less than a bribe paid to my world's administrator?"

The Voice grunts in acknowledgement at my statement as it considers what I have said. But the fight is far from over as The Voice rallies and fires off its rebuttal.

"I agree that I would be in a far worse place without you." The Voice rasps, "However, that does not mean I am making a profit on this transaction. I am spending resources and power to merely retain my position that is under attack. Employing you as my agent in these circumstances will inevitably result in a deficit on my part. You cannot expect me to share profits with you when those alleged profits simply do not exist."

The Voice continues in its signature rumble, "The only profit on the table now is the codex, which I again admit has some value to me. Unfortunately, that value is not commensurate with what you are requesting. Like you Transmigrator, I am not asking for much. Only for the scales to be balanced between us."

"All that doesn't change the fact that my work has intrinsic worth." I point out, "Worth that you are benefiting from."

"Which is the reason why I am offering compensation which is more than reasonable." The Voice rasps triumphantly, "The pension I raised earlier is worth more a year than the combined annual incomes of all the people you have killed so far."

"Except that there's no guarantee I can actually collect." I state dourly.

"Then take up my proposal to found a kingdom of your own in this world." The Voice offers, "Once the dust from the conflict settles, you can make a hundredfold return on the time and work you have put in on my behalf."

I narrow my eyes and challenge, "You once told me that the personality is bound to the mind, not the soul. What if something happens to my actual body back home while I am playing king?"

The Voice is silent. I follow up with another question, "You can't guarantee the safety of my real body, can't you? I might be drowning in my own puke right now for all we know."

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More silence from The Voice. Damn it, the truth is coming out now. Every single one of The Voice's offers are at their root, Faustian bargains. That cheapskate god has been trying to fleece me all this while.

"You are not drowning in your own vomit, Transmigrator." The Voice finally manages to say.

"No shit." I roll my eyes, "Is that why you're dragging your feet on separating me from Gallant? So that there's a replacement in the event I suddenly go brain dead?"

"Mr Gallant cannot even hear me." The Voice protests.

"Alley can't hear you." I force past the weak protest, "Hernandez can't hear you. Yet they do your bidding regardless. Why?"

The Voice responds in a dangerously soft tone, "Why indeed? Explain it for me."

"To repay their debts to you." I conclude, "Its the reason why the universe will compel Gallant to serve you as well. He used your power to fuel his magic. Your artificial core is boosting his body. Gallant owes you big time and he will pay, one way or the other, am I right?"

The Voice chuckles darkly at my declaration, "Yes. Full marks Transmigrator. I am glad I summoned a man such as yourself. Mutual understanding makes deceit unnecessary. Its a rather refreshing way of doing business. Certainly less tedious than relying on lures and temptations."

"I maintain that my original offer to you was fair. I am making nothing, therefore I offered nothing in return. Just as you would restore me to my original position, I would do the same for you if you had elected to return home. Though I can tell that this is not something that you will accept."

"So, this is my revised offer Transmigrator," The Voice rasps, "I will secure the necessary guarantee you seek as well as return you home safe and sound as a wealthy man, but in return, I require an oath from you, that you will do everything necessary to ensure Fate's demise."

"Pass." I dismiss, "I get to go home after the mission is complete, not after Fate is defeated or killed."

"Very well." The Voice accepts, "An oath that you will do everything necessary to complete our mission in return for the rewards mentioned."

"Yeah." I confirm, "Its not as if I have any other choice really. Is this oath thing like a magical spell or contract?"

"Sincerity is a far stronger chain than most people would expect." The Voice explains, "Swear on your title in this world and let destiny be your witness."

"My title?" I ask, feeling rather confused, "Not my name?"

"Names mean nothing to me." The Voice says flatly, "Fate erased my name with a curse. For centuries I have lived without one. A title is unique, representing both the person and the deeds he has accomplished. There are many men who walk this world, but there is only one Transmigrator. There is no better show of sincerity than an oath sworn under that descriptor."

"Then I want you to swear on your own title as well." I say, "Swear that you will hold up your end of the deal."

The Voice rumbles in an amused tone, "You already know my title in this world. Tyrant. The epithet Fate's minions have labelled me with."

I shake my head, "There are many tyrants in this world. I want a title that is uniquely yours, the same way I am the only Transmigrator. Show some sincerity. Stop playing games."

The Voice laughs uproariously in delight, "Good. Good. No one has forced me to make such a concession before. Its truly wonderful to finally enter into an agreement between equals. So yes, I will swear on my title, my true title in this world. The words the natives use to refer to me and only me."

The air suddenly becomes heavy as spiritual energy starts to swirl about chaotically. My hair begins to stand from the electric tension.

The Voice grandly pronounces, "My name is lost, none may say it, not even me. But the natives had a word for me, a word they used only when they whispered my name in hushed voices. That word can be known but never said, for destiny will expunge any reference made to my identity."

"Then what good is it?" I grumble.

"Words can be concealed behind other words." The Voice continues, "Meanings within meanings. That is how my title still exists. It was borrowed by another in ignorance and I took the interloper's title in exchange. But the true owner of a title can never be denied. Over time, the two meanings of the title merged into one. Mine."

I suddenly sense butterflies in my stomach as an overwhelming sense of unease creeps over me. Something tells me that I have to get out of here, before The Voice tells me its secret. Its something I should not know. Something I must never know.

"I am the Black Stallion," The Voice chuckles, "and it is by that title I will swear my oath to you."