Theo didn’t know what to think about his new life as a glorified postman. He stood with Belgar in Tero’gal, watching the dead Dronon read a letter from his sister. It was written in exquisite Drogramathi with more flourishes than the blocky language deserved. The spirit’s body had gained some substance over the past few days. While counting time wasn’t a sure thing in the realm, the days would have felt more like years in here.

The same taunting screen that showed up for buildings in town claimed that Tero’gal was still Level 0. At least it had one soul. Even if that soul was a brother who wouldn’t stop fawning over his sister. Even after he died, he joined a realm belonging to the person who usurped his body. Strange things that always led somewhere even stranger.

“Well, I’m glad you’re adapting my techniques,” Belgar said. He folded the note, placing it gingerly on the worktable. “You’ve hit the experience slowdown near Level 30, yes?”

It was more of a grinding halt. The first ten levels were a breeze. Then it started getting a tad slower in the teens. Reaching Level 20 was like a punch to the gut. But people in this world often said things about Level 30. That’s where the training wheels were thrown off the bike entirely. Level 30 was where most people died.

“That’s right. Except for my [Tara’hek Core] and my [Governance Core]. Those are still leveling like I never hit a barrier.”

Belgar nodded, wisps of purple energy trailing along his brow. Something of a strange smile spread across his face, distorted by his ghostly appearance. “That soul-bond you have is strange. It’s ignoring several rules that I won’t even get into. You also hold two antithetical cores in your chest.”

Theo shook his head. Belgar’s information was old. Toru’aun and Drogramath weren’t enemies, let alone opposites. The short list of gods the alchemist had in his mind—those conspiring to change the world—had both the Dronon on board. “I think they get along now.”

Belgar scoffed. Then cleared his throat. “Perhaps. You’ll understand that some of my memories from my mortal life are incomplete. More feelings than anything. I’m… Well, I’m working on it.”

The angry Dronon spirit needed a friendly hug. Too bad his form was still immaterial. Instead, Theo gave him a hearty thumbs-up and moved on. There was work to do.

The work that needed done in Tero’gal today wasn’t about alchemy. Not directly, anyway. Zarali had a lot of theories on how she could help Salire gain a Drogramathi core, but they were all theories. Belgar’s time on Iaredin showed him as the brains of the brother-sister operation. Theo grilled him about everything, but gained almost nothing in return. When Benton finally arrived—apparently busy with some matters of death and winter—they broke for tea and scones.

Theo was mixing in honey to his tea when the ground below his feet trembled. He cast a confused look to his guests, who both shrugged. “Is that normal?”

Benton spread his hands across the table when the rumble came again, calming the chattering teaware. “Absolutely not normal.”

A twinge of recognition spread through the alchemist’s mind. It was almost like…

“Knocking,” Belgar said, finishing Theo’s thought. Then it came again.

Intuition spread out like a web, snaking through the possibilities. Theo’s mind reeled as he discarded falsehoods and embraced the possible. The knocking came again as his mind raced, then settled on a conclusion. His mind reached out, affirming the entry of a far-off being. Running outside, he spotted a sandy archway springing from the ground. Roughly hewn yellow stones formed a doorway, and a Khahari stepped through.

Before he had even fully materialized, Theo had Khahar in a bear hug. The Arbiter smiled, hugging him back. Then he looked to Benton and Belgar. With a nod, both men disappeared with a faint popping sound. “That almost didn’t work, Theo.”

“What? Banishing my tea-enjoying friends?”

Khahar simply smiled, then gestured toward the cottage. Both men assumed their spots at the table, picking up where Benton had left off in the ceremony. “These scones are quite good. No, that was simple. My planned ascension almost fell apart. Fenian nearly bungled the… Ah, well. All that is in the past, isn’t it?”

“Sneaky as ever. So, how are you allowed to come into my realm?” Theo asked.

Khahar tilted his head, smiling. “I’m the Arbiter. I can do whatever I want.”

“Really? Cause if that was the case, you would have shown up sooner.”

When Khahar laughed, it was Yuri’s old laugh. That same laugh that would boom out during drinking games. Over the cards in some musty cellar in Moscow. “You’re not wrong about that. The rules I’ve put into place are specific. Meant to tie the gods’ hands until we can sort other matters out.”

“Is this the part where you say you can’t tell me what you’re planning?”

Khahar thought about that one for a long time. He sipped his tea, busied himself with his scone, but there was something clearly different about him. His eyes didn’t dart in his head, searching through realities. He didn’t seem distant. The man was present. He was happy.

“When this world was created and seeded, it was left as a blank slate. A simple class system to get things going and nothing more. The intention was for people to rise to godhood, where they could change the system to suit the mortals. That’s the funny part about gods, isn’t it? Once they have power, they don’t want to let it go.”

“So, your plan is to change the system?”

Khahar nodded. “The other funny thing about gods… They’re quite good at plotting. What better way to protect the system they hold so dear than to create a system for the system. I’ve destroyed the first seal with my ascension. The Throne of the Arbiter is mine, and no one can dethrone me.”

“So, why not just snap your fingers and destroy the system that’s giving you trouble.”

“Ah,” Khahar said with a smile. “Then it wouldn’t be a very good system, would it? No, they’ve placed other checks on that. A kind of council that needs to form.”

A council of what, exactly? Theo couldn’t help but think of how he played into this. He had always been a pawn to Khahar, even if that wasn’t the best way to put it. “Alright. So, you want me on this council?”

“Now is not the time for that. We’re far off from where you play into this plan. But you’re playing your part well. All I can do is apologize for your forced ignorance. I cannot speak freely about this secondary system. See? That’s the genius of it. Because how does one ascend to the council if they don’t know what to look for?”

Theo let out a contented sigh, sipping on his tea. “Well, I’m happy about one thing at least. My old drinking buddy is back. Sipping tea instead of vodka, of course.”

Khahar laughed, slamming his fist on the table. The blow was measured, barely rattling the cups and spoons on the wood surface. He wiped tears from his eyes after a moment, sighing happily. “Well, I can visit more often now. I’ve designated Tero’gal as a realm to investigate. Since you have so many visitors, I can pass arbitration on you whenever I feel the need.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“An official investigation? I’m honored.”

Khahar told the story of his ascension to the heavens. The gods were not happy when he took the throne. They went into their corners and prepared to assault Khahak, but it was too late. The Realm of the Arbiter struck first, cutting out the descenders like a cancer from the pantheons. The heavens were on fire for eons—realm time, of course—but in the end, they all fell. One-hundred gods were purged from various pantheons. But Yuri had a more startling revelation.

“They’re dead. Not like before, when a god would fall. No, I killed them. Never to rise again. Their souls were annihilated. Unlike Balkor.”

Ice ran down Theo’s back. “Almost like you’re implying that Balkor is planning a comeback.”

“It’s another one of those things I cannot reveal. But you can draw conclusions for that information. Ah, speaking of that… You should take the [Wisdom of the Soul] potion. Your realm shields you from most of the ill-effects that come with advancing in level, but Wisdom is the hardest attribute to stop. And it’s your highest attribute.”

“Noted,” Theo said. Khahar just glossed over the return of a dead necromantic god. But the pieces were there—literally. People said that Balkor was the only god to cross into the mortal realm with his heavenly body. That brought the fury of every pantheon down on him, striking the god dead over the Fallen Kingdom of Gardreth. That place had been a font of necromantic energy ever since. Then the undead spilled over onto the continent, invading Qavell and ruining most of the land. “The body of a dead god, huh? That’s what drives the undead?”

“Smart man. But I didn’t come here just to talk business,” Khahar snapped his fingers. Belgar and Benton appeared just outside of the door. A pack of playing cards appeared in his hand. “Let’s teach these guys how to play Texas Hold’em.”

Benton and Belgar were confused when they reappeared. Then slightly fearful when they spotted the god of gods sitting at Theo’s little table in his little cottage. They warmed eventually when Khahar began explaining the rules. He even summoned little chips for them to bet with, although the currency was all imagined. The alchemist’s mind was cast back to the old days.

“Somehow,” Theo said, folding another hand. “Our days of murder and mayhem seem like good times.”

“I know what you mean,” Khahar said, tapping the table. “Call.”

Benton looked uncomfortable with his hand. He shifted in his chair, then added to the pot. “Never took you as the murderous type, Theo.”

“It was a different time.” Theo watched as Khahar cleaned up the table yet again. No one could win against him, and no one was trying. It was the motion of dealing the cards and sipping tea that they were here for. Not the thrill of victory, but the warmth of company. “A different place, too.”

“I do not understand this game.” Belgar glared at the cards as they were dealt. He had to exert force to hold them in his hands, making it more difficult for him to play. Khahar had replenished his supply of chips several times. “I understand the rules, but not the purpose.”

“It’s a game of deception. And odds,” Khahar finished dealing the cards.

“Hardly fair against the highest level god,” Belgar grumbled.

But the game went on, as did the conversation. Despite being the grumpiest person in Tero’gal, Belgar eventually opened up about himself. He was a regretful man who held a spiteful view of the life he had led. Even after being reminded that he was the master of his destiny, not Drogramath, he wouldn’t give it up.

Benton proved to be the spirit’s opposite. The bear-god was full of love for everything and everyone, despite being a god of death. Because he was a god of death, according to Khahar. Everything was about cakes and tea with that guy. His encouraging attitude was infectious, defeating Belgar’s nihilism with ease. What was left was a hearty game of poker that everyone enjoyed.

Something begged Khahar’s attention and they had to end the game. But the Arbiter promised to return for more games, even if it wasn’t daily. This was a realm for private work, after all. They couldn’t just spend 12 hours screwing around with cards. Theo stood with Belgar and Benton outside of the cottage. Khahar had just returned to his citadel, leaving a lingering sense of the desert’s heat in his wake.

“I was gonna wait for a better time to tell you, Theo,” Benton started, looking sheepish about his statement. “But there’s a few souls in the void that are looking for homes. I was worried about arbitration, but… Khahar said nothing about Belgar being here.”

Benton was worried that having souls in Tero’gal would be against the rules. But a realm grew in power for several reasons, one of them being the collection of souls. More souls meant a more powerful realm, which was something Theo desperately needed. Tero’gal was one the one thing between him and certain death. Well, perhaps something less dramatic, but that’s how it felt.

“Anyone you bring around needs to be interviewed first. I don’t want my realm loading up with a bunch of jerks.”

“Of course,” Benton said, nodding his head. “The ones that have found their way into my realm are mostly Dronon. Some are too weak to ascend to the higher realms, so they’ve remained in our lowly section of the heavens. Others are wayward. Unable to come to terms with the doctrine of their master.”

“Zagmon Dronon?” Theo asked.

“All flavors, but yes. Some of Zagmon’s lost children need a home.”

That was a hard pill to swallow, but Theo would take it, anyway. He wasn’t interested in judging someone by their origin. While he had only had unpleasant experiences with Zagmon Dronon, that didn’t mean they were all evil. And now they were without a god. What happened to those people lost in the void? Would they just float around forever without finding a home?

“Like I said. Interview first, then I’ll talk about accepting them.”

As with most trips to Tero’gal, Theo was forced to think about what he left back on the mortal plane. Salire was having a lot of fun doing potions today. After the departure of the small fleet, there was little else to do in town. Ziz and his guys were ready to work on the underwater tower, but that was a project that required many people. Sailors, stoneworkers, artificers, blacksmiths, and so on. The project might have been stupid, but it tied in well with the alchemist’s plans to fortify the coast.

He spent his remaining time in the realm with Belgar, working on items for the shop. The dead Dronon still held cores in his spirit, but they were mere echoes of their former selves. He didn’t have the control of someone with a mortal body, and the effects of his cores were pathetic when compared to the real thing. But that was one thing that didn’t seem to bother him. For a man so proud of his abilities in life, he didn’t care that he wasn’t as good in death.

For the spirit, pride came as knowledge. His memories of mortal life weren’t perfect, but they were damn good. For a man who spent thousands of years fighting for survival in the void, he was brilliant. Theo couldn’t stop himself from wondering what this guy could have gotten up to if he wasn’t slain prematurely. The details around his death were foggy. Like Zarali, he would only say that the Dronon was thrown from a cliff. A secret war they wouldn’t elaborate on.

“Alcohol was the key to the Level 30 barrier,” Belgar said, helping Theo clean out a still. They had a few more batches to make before they were done for the day. “That makes me wonder about the other barriers.”

“Impossible to say. Could be some combination of alcohol and mana infusion. Does the system know to create new tiers of things as you level? Does that go on forever?”

Belgar attached the grinder to the top of the artifice still, struggling with his immaterial form. But he managed the task well enough. “Impossible to say. You’re better off asking your friend. The Arbiter.”

“Fair enough. He claimed to be level 12,000 when he ascended.”

Belgar shook his head. “No one man should have so much power.”

Theo had nothing to say about that. He just wanted to get the work done, then return to the mortal plane. But he was happy to chat with Belgar about other things. It was hard to get a man like him to talk about anything other than regrets, so that remained a slow process. They completed not only the orders they had received in the shop, but some extra things to stock. Random purchases didn’t account for many of their sales, but it was good enough to line their pockets.

“Well, it’s been a blast,” Theo said, giving Belgar another thumbs-up. “I can hug you when your form gets more solid. Right now it’s about like touching slightly thick air.”

“I’m working on it,” Belgar said, fumbling with something on the table. He gestured to it, rather than picking it up. “For my sister.”

“Another note?” Theo asked, scooping the letter up. “I hope you guys are hashing things out.”

“Yes. It’s difficult to be a hovering older brother when all you can do is send notes.” Belgar let out a labored sigh. “But better than nothing. Better than the void.”

“Alright. Enjoy your hundred-some-odd days in solitude.”

“One-hundred forty-four days,” Belgar corrected. “Benton keeps me company, mostly. I haven’t hopped realms since I got here, though. Working on that one.”

“Well,” Theo said, approaching the island’s edge. He looked down, spying on Tresk and Alex for a moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Stay sane.”

As Theo plunged over the edge, he heard Belgar say, “I’ll try.”