Chapter One Hundred Sixty-One: ‘A trial of gods...’

Hector blinked a couple times.

Malast wasn’t yet done talking, however. “I would like for Secho to be reborn in a new vessel, even if it means he won’t quite be the same as I remember him. He deserves that much.”

Hector detected a softness in the man’s voice that hadn’t been there before.

‘Secho, huh?’ said Garovel privately. ‘That’s another god, by the way.’

‘The God of Growth,’ said Hector.

‘The--yeah. Hey, how do you know that?’

‘Eleyo over there told me all about him.’ Hector noticed the Hun’Kui man looking back at him.

It was difficult to tell in the poor light and the goggles on Eleyo’s face, but Hector abruptly felt as though he could read the man’s face--maybe even his mind. There was just something in that look. The timing of it. The lingering of it.

Hector knew at once what Eleyo was about to do.

Eleyo was going to accept Malast’s offer.

That one name, Secho, had just changed Eleyo’s mind completely.

It was madness. Hector knew that. To just suddenly agree to be transformed into a “god” when there was still so much left unexplained. But everything that he recalled from their conversation earlier was informing him of Eleyo’s state of mind, right now.

Hector also felt in that moment as if Eleyo knew that he knew. How could the man not? It hadn’t even been half a day since Hector had listened to him go on about how much he admired Secho. Eleyo had to know what Hector was thinking, right now, too.

And indeed, when Eleyo took a step toward Malast, and Hector raised an iron wall in front of the man, Eleyo did not look surprised.

“What are you doing, Senmurai?” said Eleyo.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?” said Hector.

“I will do as I please, Senmurai.”

Somehow, it didn’t sound like a term of reverence or respect anymore. “You don’t know what you’re doing. We don’t know anything about this Malast guy.” He shot a glance at Malast. “No offense.”

The Idle God gave a shrug.

“I understand the risk involved,” said Eleyo. “Now let me pass. It is my choice.”

Hector clenched his jaw as he deliberated. Honestly, he had no idea what to do now. This was all too sudden and crazy. Should he stop this guy? His gut was telling him that he absolutely should, but what actual justification was there? If Eleyo wanted to gamble with his own life like this, shouldn’t he have been free to do so?

There was just something wrong. Something about Eleyo that was bothering him right now. Something in that conversation they’d had. Something in the way the man was now acting in front of Malast. Almost like a different person. Suddenly fearless, where before the man had been so cautious that he waited two entire days to reveal he spoke Mohssian.

And there was that thing Malast had called him. Hidden One? What the hell was that about?

Not to mention, what even made Hector and Eleyo “suitable” as a god’s vessel in the first place? That was arguably the most important question of all, and it had still not been answered.

There were just so many unsettling things, all coming together as one formless, unspecified concern in the pit of Hector’s stomach. He didn’t have the luxury to think about each one of them, much less the time to do so, and he certainly didn’t know how to put any of that into words, but right now, that uneasy feeling remained strong enough that he wanted to listen to it, no matter what.

Before the tense silence could draw out for too long, however, Malast intervened. “You wish to become Secho’s vessel, after all, Hidden One?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why do you call him that?” said Hector. “Hidden One? And why do you call me Iron One? How did you know that I can use iron, huh?”

“You only get one question at a time,” said Malast.

“If you really want one of us to be Secho’s vessel,” said Hector, having had just about enough of their game, “then you should be willing to answer all of our questions. Unless there’s something you’re hiding from us, of course. Something that might make us refuse.”

“Always so suspicious,” said Malast. “Another reason I’ve always avoided you. So bothersome to deal with.”

Eleyo started walking around the iron wall in front of him, so Hector made it wider.

Malast sighed again. “You have no reason to stop him, Iron One. It is his choice to make. That is, unless you wish to become a god, yourself. In which case, I suppose you have every reason to stop him.”

Hector was at a loss. ‘Garovel, what do I do?’

‘Oh, uh--well, I agree with you. But I don’t think you should piss off Malast. If worse comes to worst, just give in and let Eleyo have it.’

“Well, Iron One?” said Malast, holding up the jar in Hector’s direction. “Do you wish to become a god? If not, then the choice here is simple.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Hector grit his teeth. “...What will you do if I say yes?” he said, mostly just trying to buy more time to think.

“Ah. In that case, I would have to hold--”

A clinking and shifting sound cut him off, and Hector saw the mountain of treasure begin to move slightly. There were several slow and mild avalanches in the glowing jewels, clattering all the way down to the stony floor around Malast, who was looking around with the same level of disinterest as he always seemed to have.

Then a cluster of giant, red-orange hands exploded out of the treasure pile. Jewels went flying everywhere as the hands stretched and grew and bent aggressively toward the group.

Hector reacted with a wall for everyone. The collective impact from all the hands nearly toppled it immediately, but Hector added foundational support in time to stabilize it, so instead of it merely falling on top them, it started slowly pushing everyone back. Within seconds, Hector could see the red-hot, hand-shaped spots in his wall, where they were doubtlessly trying to push through.

Hector had something for that, though. He materialized freezing cold spikes of solid iron on the other side of the wall, skewering as many hands as he could at once.

The pushing stopped. The glowing spots on the wall began to diminish.

Hector was wary of annihilating his work, however. Manuel and the still-silent Diego each moved to opposite ends of the wall in order to peek around the corner. When they both gave him a nod, Hector destroyed his iron.

As they closed the distance back toward Malast, Hector didn’t see any traces of the hands that had presumably just tried to kill or capture everyone, but he did notice something different about the mountain of treasure in each of the spots where the hands had originated from.

There were mirrors. They must have been buried beneath the jewels before, but now they were mostly visible.

Before anyone could ask Malast about what the hell had just happened, however, a booming voice arrived.

“Invaders, begone from this place! You are not worthy to be in the presence of the God of the Underworld!”

Hector didn’t recognize the voice, but fortunately, he didn’t have to.

“Seyos!” yelled Malast. “I have not finished speaking with these people! Cease this foolishness and reveal yourself!”

There came a pause as everyone waited.

Then the treasure pile shifted again, and a molten light emerged from the one of the mirrors nearest Malast. First a hand, then a shoulder, head, torso, and so on. A Hun’Sho man, quite clearly, climbed out of the mirror as if it were a window, pushing jewels out of his way as he arrived and finally stood before them.

He looked radically unlike the other Hun’Sho Hector had met, primarily because he was wearing clothes. The billowing black cloak was the most noticeable addition, as it did not stop moving even when Seyos did. The tall staff in his hands was perhaps the next most obvious thing, adorned at its tip with a spinning and glowing jewel.

Then there were the gloves--assuming that was what they were.

Unlike the other Hun’Sho, Seyos’ forearms were the only things covered in magma, while the rest of him appeared more or less Hun’Kui-like, but those forearms were much larger than the other Hun’Sho’s had been. And they were lined with something, too, as if to help hold all that extra magma in place. Ultimately, they had the effect of making the man look like he had the hands of a giant--perhaps even that molten golem that they’d seen a couple days ago.

There were a few other oddities on the man’s body as well, but Hector only had enough time to take in those few large things before Seyos started talking.

“Do you wretches even comprehend the sheer magnitude of greatness sitting before you?” said Seyos. “This is a being as old as humanity itself! Yet you speak to Him with the irreverence of a common dreg!”

Eleyo took the opening. “You seem knowledgeable. What else can you tell us about Malast?”

Seyos regarded the Hun’Kui man with obvious disgust. “Ashen dross. How dare you speak to me.”

Eleyo threw up his hands and looked toward the surface-dwellers. “One of you try.”

Carver seemed to volunteer, until he remembered that he couldn’t speak. Then he turned to Hector, along with just about everyone else.

‘Go get ‘em, champ,’ said Garovel privately.

Hector was more than a little sick of all this attention by now, but he didn’t see any recourse. “Why do you sound so convinced that this guy here really is a god? I mean, all he does is sit there.” He again threw another glance Malast’s way. “No offense.”

Malast returned another shrug. “It’s kinda my thing.”

“Oh, but of course you do not know,” said Seyos. “Malast has never intervened in human affairs. That is the reason why he alone remained, while the others became little more than stories we tell one another.”

Everyone looked to Malast, who had nothing to say--and had even shut his eyes. It was again questionable as to whether or not he was even paying attention.

“What ‘others’ are you referring to?” said Hector.

“The Choro’Tachi, of course,” said Seyos.

‘The Primordials,’ translated Garovel privately. ‘Or simply Elders. It’s an umbrella term that refers to pretty much all the gods you’ve already heard of--and probably a few others.’

‘Uh, ah--what should I ask him next?’ said Hector.

‘Ask him what happened to the others.’

Hector much preferred this calmer, less annoyed-sounding Garovel backing him up. “...What exactly happened to the other, uh, Ch-Choro’Tachi?”

“They were taken by the God of All That Is Not, so that humanity might be allowed to flourish.”

This Seyos guy was a hell of a lot more forthcoming than Malast, at least. Hector did have to grant him that, even if he had been trying to kill them a moment ago--and probably would again anytime now, Hector felt.

Perhaps Hector was misreading the situation, but he was getting the impression that the only thing stopping Seyos from attacking them with whatever other crazy shit he had at his disposal was that “god” sitting over there with his eyes still closed.

“Do you understand?” said Seyos, perhaps having grown tired of Hector’s uncertain silence. “You stand in the presence of unimaginable power. You would do well to show respect.”

That made Malast open his eyes, though he still didn’t say anything.

Hector took the opportunity to address the Idle God directly. “Is any of that true?”

Malast didn’t answer him.

Seyos did, however. “Of course it is true! How dare you question me!” His staff began to glow, as did a pendant around his neck that Hector hadn’t noticed before.

He braced himself for whatever the hell was about to happen, but Malast held up a hand.

“What did I just say about foolishness and ceasing, huh?”

Seyos growled. “Let their deaths finally prove to you that I am worthy of your gift!”

“Killing them seems a little excessive,” said Malast.

“You deem them worthy, yes?” said Seyos. “Then by defeating them, I too shall become worthy!”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

Seyos struggled for words for a second. “Y-yes, it does!”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Malast.

“N-no, listen, I have been researching this subject,” said Seyos. “It is a matter of the Saiko’Ishiryoku, no?”

Malast didn’t answer him.

‘Garovel?’ said Hector.

‘Oh, ah--something like “Supreme Will,” I guess?’ the reaper said privately.

Seyos continued anyway. “That is what makes a vessel suitable, is it not? It must have a soul which can withstand the given power. And the Saiko’Ishiryoku is achievable by all! Even the unworthy, such as I!”

Malast sighed. “That’s technically true, yes, but how is killing them going to help you achieve it?“

“There is no better proving ground than that of mortal peril! But perhaps it is impossible for a god to understand such things. You do not have to worry about struggling to change or improve yourself.”

Malast didn’t respond. He looked down at the jar in his lap, running his hand along the lid.

Seyos turned back toward Hector and the others, and the jewel on his staff began to glow again.

“You may be right,” the Idle God said. “Perhaps you will surprise me.”

“Excellent!” said Seyos.

“To me,” said Malast with that sudden weight behind his words again.

The staff flew from Seyos’ hand and into Malast’s waiting one. It stopped glowing, as did the pendant around Seyos’ neck.

“What are you--?!”

“Any among you could surprise me, I suppose,” said Malast. “I should not dismiss your potential so easily. Very well. I shall give you all an opportunity to achieve beyond yourselves, as the Hidden One and the Iron One have.”

Hector didn’t quite follow most of that, but the time for questions was past, it seemed.

The staff in Malast’s hands lit up with renewed vigor, far brighter than before--so much so, in fact, that after a few moments, it sparked to life with glaring electricity. Light filled the whole chamber in intensifying waves, and Hector had to shield his eyes so as not to be blinded.

The prior darkness all around melted away, revealing the distant rock walls that they had only been able to glimpse previously with their meager lamplights.

Jagged blue bolts erupted from Malast’s staff and leapt out across the chamber, arcing toward four separate corners, where Hector noticed familiar stone monuments waiting to receive them. They had blended in so seamlessly with the rock behind them that only now could Hector tell they were there, somehow coated with a visible electric charge.

“We shall have a tournament,” announced Malast in a voice that boomed even over the crackling lightning. “The winner, if they be suitable by the end of it, shall be Secho’s vessel.”