The cling clang of metal struck with the millimetered precision of a clock; those unused to the environment would believe seeing the front doors of hell—especially considering the beings which roamed the place. Ansem stood there on a chair against a wall far away from the anvils and forges, too afraid to dart off, too small for this place. The giant, which he had came to know as Gowther, sat beside him, shouting orders to his four kids.

“Doze, your flame is cold.”

“Clyde, did you jerk off too hard last night? There’s no strength in your hammering.”

“Cole!” He puffed. “Keep doing you, this is perfect.”

He took another whiff out of his horn-shaped pipe, and looked at Ansem who was pacing out. The ground buzzing around him.

“Hey kid, I won’t eat you.”

“E-eat—“ he blurted, his head snapping towards the giant, before snapping away. There’s no way this is…

Could orcs speak? Were orcs even red in the first place, or did they have that many limbs.

And how come he could understand him, Gowther, he had a name…

This was too sudden, and his head felt light. The “kids” didn’t help his culture shock, all only looking vaguely human, and all somehow intelligible. Doze was a lanky blue-skinned creature with black scleras, yellow irises and a horn for a nose, Clyde was a stumpy green man, with a thick layer of fat covering his stomach, his auburn beard long enough to add yet another layer of protection, and Cole… for all intent and purposes looked like a dwarf. The dwarf aside, they all dwarved him despite him being six-foot-and-an-inch tall.

Brilliance, where am I?

Droplets of sweats pearled on his forehead. The dust, the smell of hot steel, and the stench of five grown men and a half mixed in the air, spawning the unholiest of smells. Ansem would have plugged his nose if he didn’t fear offending the creature next to him; a creature that could squash him with the same tool he used to smoke. Even still, that smell was the least of his issues, Ansem felt himself melt.

Too hot.

“G-Gowther,” he said turning towards the giant trying to put his mind off the heat, strangling the urge to look away, “Where is this?”

“Finally speaking, uh?” Gowther said in a slow cadence, his eyes focused on his workers. “Where are we…”

“Well you’re in Edya, not that you don’t know that since you’ve already been to Strang.”

Edya, Strang?

“I don’t recognize those names.” He scratched the behind of his right ear with his index, his heart rate increasing. “Is it somewhere in Nethros?” he said, changing to their main dialect.

Gowther didn’t even register the change of language, “Nethros? Never heard of that place…”

Ansem looked at Gowther, his heart stopping. “Never heard…” he repeated mindlessly, his nape suddenly getting really itchy, as if swarmed by blood-sucking sants. Gowther understood him perfectly, no matter which language he spoke and worse than that, these words.

Never heard… This is a joke, right?

Even Azthros civilians who despised Nethros wouldn’t deny its existence. Nethros the only force rivaling the empire, the opposing faction in a war that had spanned generations.

He laughed. Expecting, hoping that the four-armed demon-orc was merely jesting.

“Did you hit your head?” Gowther asked taking a puff from his pipe.

“It sure feels like I did,” Ansem answered, as he scratched his nape hard enough to draw blood.

“H-hey calm down, kid!”

The giant said, seeing the blood on his finger. Ansem didn’t stop, feeling like a marionette at the center of some fucked up tragedy. “Yanked to another world the day of my marriage?”

He laughed without humor. “O, Aztak, is this your making?”

Suddenly, Gowther blew on him. The burst of smoke wrapped around the foreign prince, lifting him up.

“What is this!?”

The smoke carried him to Gowther. “Yanked to another world? You’re telling me you got here by accident?”

“By accident? Yes, I ran to Edya by accident.”

“That’s not what I am asking,”

“Then…” Ansem said, unsure of what he meant, unsure of anything at this point.

“Do you remember meeting Lady Osal?”

“Lady Osal?”

Gowther’s white irises focused on him. “Do you remember entering a tower?”

“A tower..? Where?”

That’s when Gowther realized the youth was really, really lost. He stood up, carrying the kid out with him outside. Then he let the prince unto the ground. “You’re definitely the first case I hear of someone waking up in the tower without meeting the red lady. Or knowing where you are, for that matter.”

“I’ve heard tales of kidnappings, or of being tossed here for punishment… but even then Strang is not where you should have woken up.”

The prince didn’t ask what Strang was, figuring out that it was probably the woods he had ran away from. “So tell me your story, boy. How did you wake up in Strang?”

Ansem at this point didn’t have much to lose, and had given up on his sense of normality. I guess, I’ll converse with a demon. He pulled a satin tissue out of his pocket, a black one, and wiped the behind of his neck and fingers. “Super healing?” the giant asked.

“Super what?”

As he wiped his nape, no blood flowed anymore, in fact there didn’t even seem to be an injury for him to be bleeding. Gowther didn’t speak further, gallivanting around Edya, waving at the multiple returners who saluted him, listening to the boy’s story.

.

.

.

“So you got sucked to the tower the day of your marriage? And never got to do it—“ he said with a lewd smile. “That’s too cruel.”

“Hey, that’s not the important part!” Ansem said blushing.

The giant chuckled. “If you say so.”

They had been walking around for a while, now and Ansem had had no choice than to get comfortable with the red-skinned monster.

“So what will you do?”

“Obviously, I have to go back.”

Gowther took an unexpectedly long time to answer.

“Uh? How do I say that…” he said his eyes following the women of Edya, most smiled at him coquettishly, the rest had their eyes on the boy besides him.

“You can’t leave the tower the same way you entered.” He paused. “Well, the same way most people enter it.”

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“What do you mean?”

“The only way out is to clear the tower, and wish to return to your world. A waste if you ask me.”

“What do you mean ‘clear the tower’.”

“You really don’t know a thing, uh?”

“You’re standing in Babel, the sole place in the entire world which connects mortals to gods.”

“Babel..? Somehow I feel like I have heard that name somewhere.”

“Yes, you certainly did, everyone here no matter which god they follow or which world they come from, that name…”

“Babel…” the prince said.

“Yes, that name, we’ve all heard it before.”

“Have you ever thought about becoming god?”

“Preposterous,” the prince blurted, shocked at the hubris of the man beside him. He tried to look at his face, but unable to see anything but his bulging shoulder from the side, he let his gaze fall back down. Even his family, the radiant Stormbringer, only aspired to avatarhood, to see themselves bestowed with the fullness of Aztak’s powers.

“I’ve once tried.”

“What?”

“Damn-near everyone here, entered the tower for a reason like that, and damn-near everyone here either gave up the climb or is gearing up for it.”

Ansem shook his head refusing to understand it; this tower would keep surprising him. Somehow, discovering he could talk with the spawns of Shayz—Aztak’s nemesis and harbinger of darkness—was the least shocking thing he had learned today.

Becoming a god. Is such a thing really possible? Somehow he didn’t doubt it.

“What made you stop?” the prince asked.

“Not anything too uncommon, my party was wiped out.”

“Wiped out… by—“

“I’d rather not.”

The prince wasn’t really used to having his questions rejected, yet again talking to a four-meter tall giant was not something he was used to either. There was a first to everything, indeed.

“So, will you really try to ascend? I have to tell you, to this day no one has cleared the tower.”

“What do you mean no one has cleared the tower? How would you know?”

“Show to this feeble one the expanse of the Infinite Mind.”

“Show— what?”

“Just repeat these words, boy.”

Repeat he did, and as he did, a list. A detailed list of all the gods along with the fundamental rules of this world were seared in his brain. He felt his brain broken in, as a deluge of unfamiliar script—that he somehow understood—flowed in.

“Ack—“ Ansem groaned.

Before the pain disappeared, he wiped the sweat off his face and sighed in relief.

“Oh color me surprised, I’d have expected you to at least puke, if not faint.”

The prince laughed. “How nice of you?”

He didn’t focus too much on what felt like a backhanded comment, turning inward, to his new memories.

Wow… interesting.

After saying the sentence he realized what Gowther meant. The Infinite Mind, contained information about all the gods, their dominion and affiliations. Which god they liked and which they disliked, how to touch their hearts and make them like you… the current list of their avatars, and much more. However, despite the overflowing of information, the category “New Gods” was desperately empty. This information had been implanted in his brain in such a way that all he needed to do to access it was to search for it, but despite him knowing what this label “New Gods” meant and having been given the information, he couldn’t recall anything.

“How did you know how—“

“The red lady.”

Again… that red lady. How can I meet her?

“Also this might be interesting to know, but you can check your current state and how you compare to others by thinking about yourself…”

“Thinking…”

The prince tried to do so, but as he did instead of answers to his questions, a violent headache seized his head. He collapsed to his knees, his eyes like frightened rats threatening to jump out.

“What’s happening!?” Gowther said as he crouched, his movement summoning an updraft.

After a while, the pain stopped as if it had never existed, the only proof it had was the prince which remained on the ground, panting.

What the hell was that?

“What the hell was that?” Gowther echoed, as he lifted him with his smoke.

“What?” Ansem asked unamused by what he presumed to be a joke. “Wasn’t that something you were expecting?”

“Hey kid, give me permission to read your page.”

“Give you permissi—“

“Stop asking questions, just accept!”

The prince threw his head back. Uh?

This was not the reaction of someone looking for harmless fun.

With a cock of his head, the prince said, “Sure…”

“How do I do that?”

“You already did, now…”

Not sooner had Gowther said that, that thunderous wail resounded in the street. The clamor brought quite the eyes on them, and a few people, ladies even ran to his side. As the giant fell on his behind, the prince was sent hurtling towards the ground.

“W-What happenened?!” Ansem asked. It was now his turn to be worried.

When Gowther arose from his torpor, his eyes were stern. “Who are you?”

The prince’s only answer was to stare back, blinking in confusion.

“You’re sure you haven’t met Osal…”

“Who’s that?” he asked. The more he spoke, the more questions the prince had.

“I give you permission to look at my page.”

“What—“

“Kid!”

The prince didn’t dawdle, and thought about Gowther. As he did, a stream of information about the target surged into his brain.

“Andragorus-Steinler Gowther the Third,” the young prince eyes’ lost focus, taking the sheen of turquoise.

“Third floor returner, owner of …”

“This is what was supposed to happen,” Gowther said as he sucked his pipe, the women were now gone. “Name, occupation, relative strength, even connections, you should be able to know such a thing if the other party gives their consent… They can control how much they choose to reveal, but can’t modify anything.”

“It seems gods can see all about one’s past, and even possible futures and all that without us lowly mortal’s consent; but even among the head of pantheons few have the authority for that.”

“Why are you telling me that?”

Gowther closed his eyes, as he thought. His voice seemed like a rumble.

“Everyone can see their own page..”

“Everyone…”

“You’re not a simple thing.”

“Only an apostle… As far as I am aware, only an apostle has different… but even them”

“What are you trying to say?” Ansem asked, not catching a thing of what was going on. Apostles? Different what? Everyone?

“So, are you going to stay here?”

“Answer my question!” Ansem said, losing for the first time his temper, forgetting his fear of the giant in front of him.

However, the giant didn’t budge, his black eyes and yellow pupils stayed locked on the prince.

Ansem felt something like cockroaches crawl on his back, as he broke eye contact. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Is that girl that important to you? Y’all didn’t even get married in the first place, find a new girl and live a cozy life in the tower, it might not be to your imperial standards but it’s not bad.”

“Yes, yes she is that important, and imperial standards have nothing to do with it.”

The man puffed a big cloud, before guffawing. His stern eyes, regaining the cordiality of earlier. “Ah, the foolishness of youth.”

“Oh well, let’s make a soul deal.”

“A what?“

He sighed a cloud of smoke, and looked at the prince, the same way the prince used to look at those noble brats lacking even the most fundamental of courtesy and common sense.

Amused mockery.

“You’re a bit much.” Gowther said as he took another hit of his pipe, “A deal with Osal as the witness, and our souls as collateral.” He took a few steps in silence. “If you’re that set on climbing the tower, you’ll need weapons and armor, and I happen to be quite the blacksmith, if I fail to provide you the agreed upon weapon, or you fail to pay for it… the soul of the dealbreaker will be devoured by Osal, and she’ll compensate the remaining party.”

“She can do that?”

The giant chuckled. “This is probably the least impressive thing she can do,”

“The price is always steep though, blood, soul, souls…”

“I see…”

The prince didn’t answer immediately, instead starting to walk again. The giant caught up in half a step.

Ansem turned his gaze towards the town. Multiple styles of architecture, colors and all gathered without any semblance of city planning; phantasms of a man high on zalvak. A few were huge suitable for even Gowther to step in, and others were so small, you’d have to wonder to whom they were destined. The only thing common to all the buildings was a state of dilapidation, it seemed even the buildings had resigned themselves to their fate.

“You don’t seem like a fella used to poverty, take a guess, why is everything so rundown?”

“Oh—“ the prince said not expecting to be read like that, had the smile he wore somehow leaked the disgust he felt; Macol, his politics and manners teacher, would berate him if he had.

“Could it be—“

“Wrong!”

“W-what?”

“I just knew you’d be wrong.” He waved at a long-legged lady, a lewd smile plastered on both their faces.

“Then why ask?”

“Good question,” he said. “Get used to not getting an answer.”

The giant laughed. “This place doesn’t obey logic, once you leave the floor of beginnings expect rains of swords and pools of flowing snow, with birds swimming in them.”

“Even here, every once in a while, some bullshit happens laying waste on the city; most of those who lived here for long enough simply gave up on repairing the facade of their stores. Those who could be their customers already know them anyway and those that don’t don’t have much of a choice.”

“Is that so?”

Gowther chuckled at how easily the young prince was accepting it. “Then, let’s get back to what I was saying, let’s make a soul deal.”

“Why are you so keen…”

“Because I am a kind guy.”

“I don’t think I should strike you, like your kind of customer…”

“Kid, you can go ask around, I am the best blacksmith in town.”

“Then w—“

“Because I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are three towns circling Strang and you happened to run towards the only one that wouldn’t kill you on entry; then you bumped into me; and then you tell me you want to fight against unwinnable odds for the sake of your soulmate? Also, it’d be an understatement to say you’re the most perfect looking thing I’ve laid my eyes upon…”

“I don’t swing that way.”

Gowther’s eyes rolled.

“If I hadn’t read that many tragedies, I’d tell you, you’re the chosen of prophecy, destined to win against anything.” He chuckled again.

“That doesn’t clarify any—“

“Your sheet.” He looked at Ansem with a faint smile. “I don’t know whether or not you’re truly chosen by a god; but you’re certainly some being’s plaything, and I’ve always loved games.”

The prince chuckled. “Is that so…”

“Then you’re ready to give me equipment on the off-chance of it allowing you to hit it big?”

“Yes, that’s about it.”

“What if I die?”

“Osal, will take care of it, then.”

The prince broke out in a fit of laughter. “Well, I guess I’ll need all the help I can get?”

“So that’s a deal?”

“We’ll need to clarify the specifics, but I am game.”

Gowther laughed. “To a long and fruitful cooperation.”