"Get out of my way," I growled. The rest of the army had marched on. Only a handful of yurts and a single legion remained with us. Having a thousand giants and a few hundred nomads around me felt strangely lonely on the blistering-hot plain. A pained scream came from within the nearest tent, and I clenched my fists.

"It's not done, Mond! That place is for women only now! You'll doom the boy if you stick your head in now!" snapped Kos. "My nephew will not be cursed from birth!"

Jandak and Mune each held one of my arms, trying to drag me away from the tent where Fay was giving birth to our child. Kos had his hands pressed against my chest to hold me back. For the first time in a long while, I cursed the primitive culture of my adoptive people.

"Let me go." My voice was flat and cold. Kos flinched backwards.

"Time for the worst plan, boys," he said, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"This is going to be shit," grumbled Jandak and before I could even turn my head, the pair at my sides moved. They dropped their grips on my arms, and each grabbed a leg. I found myself spitting out dust and dry grass as they charged away from the tent, dragging me along, my face bouncing off every rock and thistle as they rushed me out of the camp.

My fingers dug into the arid ground, but the soil crumbled and broke, stopping me from getting a proper grip and breaking their momentum. I left twin lines of torn-up grass and dirt as I scrabbled to regain control of the situation.

As soon as the tents began to recede in my vision, we were outside the camp; everything went sideways. The bastards spun in a tight circle, and then there was a blessed lack of pressure on my ankles. The consequence of this was that I went spinning hundreds of metres through the air. I slammed down into the ground and skidded, rolled, and bounced.

As I struggled to my feet, disoriented and angry, a fist smashed into my ribs on my right. I lashed out without thinking, a hand blurring through the air, but hit nothing. Someone threw a handful of dust into my eyes, and I blinked back tears as the world went blurry—another fist, this time into my left thigh, that sent a wave of numbness through the limb.

Again, I lashed out, and this time my fist connected. One of the shadowy shapes assaulting me tumbled away. I took a step forward just as something slammed into the back of my knees. It wasn't a fist; this was a staff, maybe a spear. I needed to end this and deal with the coven; I had to be there for the birth of my son.

I folded backwards, trapping the weapon by bending my knees to lock it in place. As I rolled, I reached out with one hand and snapped the wood in the middle by closing my fist around it. I came back to my feet with a fragment of broken staff in one hand and kicked the other half into Jandak's gut. He gasped as he was winded, but lunged for me anyway, launching a blistering series of attacks aimed at disabling my arms. Joints and muscles took a battering for a few moments before my improvised weapon cracked into his skull, and he fell away dazed.

Mune took his place. My man had some kind of brass knuckles, clearly made from some of the fancy metal Sulk was producing, that hurt like hell and made my bones ache with each blow he landed. Someone, I assume it was Kos, leapt onto my back and wiry arms lined with ropey muscle clamped down around my throat. As a big fan of the garotte as a quiet way to dispose of an opponent, I had something of a fear of being choked out.

I caught Mune's arm as it blurred forward to slam into my temple, a blow that would potentially kill a baseline human, and squeezed. There was a loud crack, and my friend fell away, clutching his broken wrist. I rolled forward, crushing Kos beneath me and breaking free of his chokehold.

I kicked him hard in the side, heard his ribs creak, and backed away. Jandak had regained his senses by this point and was slowly advancing on me, far more cautious now that he was temporarily alone.

"You see why this was the worst plan? Fighting you is like trying to swallow an aurox in one go!" he said with a bloody grin.

"Enough!" I activated Shape Earth, and the dirt around my friends flowed up, encasing their limbs first, then it spread across their torsos. They ended up looking like stone snowmen with a pissed off face in the centre.

"Not fair!" coughed Mune. "We didn't use magic!"

"You were all boosting throughout the whole fight," I ground out. "I'll come back and let you out later. I need to be there when my son is born."

Footsteps approached from behind me, and I spun, expecting another attack. Kril raised both hands and moved steadily closer.

"Easy Mond, I'm not a fighter like that lot. I'm here as your spiritual advisor. And you're going to at least listen to my advice before you do something rash!" I glared at my mentor but nodded and lowered my fists.

"You have to stay away from the birth, Mond. Did anyone ever tell you the story of Garbedil?"

"No." I inched closer towards the remains of the army's camp, where Fay was struggling through her labour without me. Kril backed up a little but kept himself between me and my goal. I growled without realising.

"Garbedil was a mighty chief, oh, I don't know how far back. Hundreds of generations, according to the songs. A bit like you, but not a Shikrakyn." Kril put his hands behind his back and moved a step away every time I advanced. "He had a dozen tribes sworn to serve him. Called himself the "lord of the steppes" if you can believe it. Hubris, Mond. He defied tradition. He had half a dozen wives at one point. You know how that works?"

"I imagine it's a lot of stress," I muttered, taking another step forward.

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"No doubt! Not only did he break tradition by taking multiple wives, but he also made the worst mistake a man can make! He had a favourite." A bead of sweat trickled down Kri's forehead, and he blinked it away as it ran into his eye. Christ, this place was hot.

"He loved them all, apparently, but when Akendu went into labour… he paced outside the tent for hours. As her screams intensified, he brushed past the women standing guard and stormed in just as the boy was born. The child was monstrous. He had flippers for arms, like a fish, and his face was on the top of his head!" Kril continued. He had stopped backing away, and I was now looming over him.

"That's not how that shit works. That kind of mutation is something that would have started at conception, if it's even possible and not some bullshit myth the women put about to keep the men away from the birth. In my world, having a dad there is normal. I never got that chance in my first life. I won't miss this one!" I reached out to move Kril aside, and he brought his hands around and threw powder in my face.

I blinked for a moment, the world fading away.

"I've never heard that legend before, Kril," said Mune. "Did you just pull all of that out of your arse?"

"Being a Dreamer means you've got to be able to think fast. If you're prophecy is wrong, you've got to find a way to move their focus gently away from the cock up." I fell backwards onto my back as the pair talked.

"What was the dust?" asked Jandak. "Get me out of here, will you? I need to piss!"

"Dream-spice. " The only thing I could be sure would work on the aurox-brained monster," Kril replied happily. I watched him move past me from the corner of my eye to try to help the Fangs break free. Good luck, that dust turned into granite. They'll be stuck there as long as I'm unconscious–

"They won't." Aresk was sitting on his throne of spears and shields, looking down at me. I was back in his god-world, arms and armour spinning on marble plinths all around me.

"Send me back."

"I can't. Well, I can, but I won't." The god of war chuckled as my face went red with rage. "Don't get pissy with me, little mortal, you aren't a god-killer. Yet. That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Take your mind off becoming a father for the first time."

"Send. Me. Back." I wasn't in the mood for the gods' bullshit right now.

"I won't. Now, listen up, kid. You're doing pretty well so far. I have to ask, though, what are your long-term goals?"

I was taken aback enough to snap out of my irrational rage at being denied access to Fay. What the hell were my goals? Did I still want to go back to Earth? Assuming I kept my levels and magic, I'd be no threat to Poseidon.

"Yep. No threat at all over there on your own. But on Urth? With some friends at your back? You could do something that hasn't happened since Jesus stabbed Mithras in the back!"

I shifted uncomfortably. Jesus killed who? I was wearing my black tunic, the one I'd bought from the shop, and it felt itchy here; it had felt like silk in the real world.

"Don't worry about the brother-wars we fight back on Earth, Ray. They don't matter anymore. It's all interfaith-this and tolerance-that. There's no blood and fury anymore!" His countenance shifted for less than a second, but I caught the briefly revealed image—a blood-red being, clad in obsidian armour much like my own. Crimson, pupilless eyes glaring at the world, demanding more. Always more.

"What do you want me to say so you'll send me home?" I said, suddenly cautious of the avatar of war I'd come to think of as something of a friend, as far as that was possible.

"Better!" He flashed me a smile, and his teeth were sharp points like those of the Koprig tribe. "You see, we're mutable. Frail. Subject to entropy. All of us except Chronos. The rest of us? We fail. As our sphere of influence comes and goes out of fashion, we wax and wane. I loved the twentieth century! I've got high hopes for the twenty-first as well! Those of us who are left… we embody something timeless—man's natural urge to conquer, in my case. The capricious waters are Poseidon's realm. Hades, well, you can figure out the themes. The point is that the only way to kill one of us with true immortality lies on Urth. I told you there were stakes for playing the game. Why would we bother if there was nothing at risk? We need some spice to make things interesting!"

My mind spun. I didn't have to go back to Earth to get my revenge? At this point, I wasn't that concerned about going "home". My people were the nomads and the Legions. I belonged here.

"You've found a place where you aren't a dangerous monster. You are still a dangerous monster, but you've found a world where that's an advantage rather than something to hide."

"I'm not a monster. And stop reading my fucking thoughts!" I snapped. He grinned down at me, straight bronze teeth flashing in the light.

"You can be whatever you want to be, Ray. You can take your revenge and eat your cake. I'm mixing my metaphors. Marie-Anionette was one of Aphrodite's pets. The point being: I've got plans for you, kid. Do you know why war hates the ocean?" I shook my head.

"Because that bitch would swallow my armies for fun! I had to bargain with her so the Ageans could land at Troy. Then she fucked me over on the return trip! Imagine if Achilles and Agamemnon had just drowned at sea on their way to the fight? She's got no soul!"

"It's great to know that the gods are basically a bunch of bitter high-school kids with thousands of years of resentment stored up. Why the fuck are you keeping me here?"

"Mostly for your own good. The kid wouldn't be a mutant if you were there when he was born, but you'd lose the respect of the tribe. Your heir would be considered illegitimate. Stone-age perspective, little dude. Gotta work within the paradigm. Anyway, have a think. Thee and me, mortal, we could kill a true-god or two if we get lucky. She's done, by the way, a healthy baby boy. Congrats! Name him after me, eh?"

"Now hang on–" The god-world faded away, and I blinked my eyes at a cloudy sky. I sat up and found that Kril was nowhere to be seen. I'd have words with him later.

"Any chance you could let us out now?" called Kos. I glanced over, and the three of them were all still entombed in stone, only their faces showing.

"Nah. I just became a dad! I'll be back in a bit. Probably less than a day or so!" A column of dust rose behind me as I shot back into the camp. Their cries of anger faded quickly.

A brassy cry, new lungs stretching themselves for the first time, echoed out around the tent Fay was in as I approached the three members of the coven who'd been glaring at me before, who moved aside with broad smiles.

Fay was a mess. But in a good way. Giving birth isn't precisely a photogenic moment. Her hair was plastered to her head with sweat, and the bed around her groin was painted red and slick with amniotic fluid. Pressed against her breast was a tiny human. The first one I ever made. My heart stuttered, and my breath caught.

She smiled up at me, smeared with sweat, knackered-looking but somehow radiant. Her hair hung lank around her face, but her hazel eyes were bright and focused on the little being who was wrapped in linen on her chest.

"Say hello to your firstborn, husband." Her voice was full of warmth and weariness. She offered me the bundle of rags and dampness like Simba being held aloft over Pride Rock. I reached out to take him from her, my face locked in a stupid grin. Screw you, Aresk!

"I name him–" A fist slammed into the side of my head at the same time as a foot landed on my kidney from the other side. Why the hell was I getting beaten up now?

"You don't name a child until their third birthday, savage. It's bad luck," Haylin hissed into my ear as she released the armlock she had on my right side. Infant mortality was a bitch back in the day.

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