Hemlik kept his breath held as he stepped into the princess' bedroom. He knew he needed to at least appear confident if he wished to see his plan through—not that he wasn't. The goddess' seers had confirmed that she had approved of his plan. He had nothing to fear. All he needed to do was follow the script and all would be as he willed it.

And yet, he trembled. Visible beads of sweat rolled down his brow with each hesitant step. His knees shook and wobbled, nearly giving out beneath him as he gulped back mouthfuls of saliva. Even his tentacles twisted out of shape, curling and gripping his very own skin as he forced himself forward. It was a strange, almost familiar sensation, but he couldn't quite pin where he'd felt it before.

Looking around the room did nothing to ease his pounding heart. It was filled to the brim with pieces of art, masterful paintings portraying scenes capable of sending chills down his spine at a glance. It wasn't just because they were eerie—portraits of eldritch gods sat alongside perfect illustrations of the most terrifying beasts from the forbidden northland—but because they revealed the extent of her omnipotence. There was a picture taken from the skies above Flornesnest with the capital mid-obliteration. There was an illustration of the Obloyd council discussing the aftermath of the Godfall. And there was even a drawing of him, standing with the Allseer and her disciples as they schemed to topple Cadria and the Alliance at once.

She knew the plan.

She knew exactly what he was going to say.

But that was precisely why he was so filled with confidence.

Even knowing everything, she had allowed his approach.

Her bed's canopy prevented him from seeing her face, let alone her expression. At most, he could vaguely make out her figure from behind the veil. She was seated at her bedside, watching, waiting for him to draw closer.

Her gaze alone was clear. The serpentine slits shone through the darkness, illuminated in a whole mix of colours. Blues, reds, and golds shone through in tandem, mixing and mingling as they danced through the darkness.

His gut was telling him that he needed to run, that it wouldn't be possible to negotiate with the thing before him. It was the same way he'd felt when he encountered an enemy with three ascensions before he earned his first. But escape was off the table. It wasn't just his mission that bound him. Her chilling gaze dared him to state his demands.

It was like she was demanding his motive—the reason that a mere rat like him would dare to disturb a supreme being's slumber.

Despite knowing it all.

Hemlik struggled to gather his wits. It took what felt like an eternity for him to finally steady his breath, clench his fists, and raise his voice.

"Good evening, Lady Augustus. I apologize for interrupting your rest. I assure you, it was for good reason," he said. "I am Hemlik Raja. I am a level 862 Dristle Archreaver, and I serve as Lieutenant General in the Obloyd Alliance's standing army. I have come to you today to bargain."

"Bargain?" She scoffed. "I have no interest in your terms of surrender, Hemlik Raja."

Hemlik's breath was caught in his throat. There was an odd, mystical quality to her voice. It almost seemed to fill the room, to resonate and echo whilst simultaneously being spoken straight into his mind.

Her words seemed to scream that she had misread his intention, but he didn't believe it for a moment, not when her paintings laid his schemes bare. It was probably a test or a mind game. He couldn't tell which, but in either case, he knew that he would need to impress her.

"I assure you that I am not here to negotiate terms of surrender. In fact, I have no business with the nation of Cadria whatsoever. I am looking to bargain with you personally, Lady Augustus, in hopes that we might enlist your aid in serving our cause. To be clear, this is not the Obloyd Alliance's cause. If anything, we are against the Alliance. We wish to overthrow the council to better the lives of its people. The Alliance appears to be doing well, enriching its people, but in reality, only the central regions grow wealthy. They steal resources meant to be shared equally across our nations and only fatten themselves. We intend to rectify this ourselves, of course, but we would like for you to watch over us as a guardian deity and, if necessary, ensure our revolution's success be it through your wisdom, blessings, or direct intervention. Of course, we are not simply begging for your aid. We do have something to offer in exchange." He could feel himself growing more comfortable with every word that left his mouth. The pressure wasn't waning, but he was slowly shifting into gear. "If you agree to aid us, then we will rewrite our religious texts to instate you as a major deity alongside the goddesses of harvest and fate. We will erect a temple in your name in each of the alliance's capital cities, and another in every population center. Seers and other religious figures aside, all government agents will immediately and openly declare faith in you for the remainder of their lifespans, and they will preach to their families with the same fervour that they preach to the people. I anticipate half the nation immediately converting and pledging never to stray from beneath your umbrella. Finally, we will dispense missionaries throughout the neighbouring lands. We will become your faithful and provide a longstanding and significant source of divinity to better fuel your final ascension."

By the end of his speech, he was all smiles. He knew he'd made an offer that she couldn't refuse. She was powerful enough to kill a true god. She should, by all means, have become one in the process. If she hadn't, then it could only mean that she lacked the divinity she needed to cross the finish line. She required a resource that his people could readily produce, but it would take time—more time than was needed for him to fulfill his goals.

It was a win-win situation.

He was absolutely confident. She had every reason to agree to his terms.

"Are you stupid?"

"Huh?"

That was why his jaw dropped when she gave her response.

The world changed. The walls slid out, moving ever further until they vanished beyond the horizon. The floor became a large, rocky slab. A spike slowly rose from beneath the surface and grew into a towering mountain. He stood roughly halfway between its base and peak, in front of a massive temple built straight into its side.

Had he not been in the midst of speaking with a celestial, he surely would have thought the shrine to be Aurora's. The whole building was made of brilliant blue ice. The pillars, the cornice, the ornate pediment. All of it was carved in frosted perfection.

Dressed in an outfit halfway between a gown and a suit of armour, she sat upon a throne at the end of the impossibly long cella. She was in a relaxed, almost lazy position with one leg folded over the other and her face propped up by an arm. Like a barbaric warlord upon a stolen throne.

Though deep within the mountain, she somehow bathed in the very same sunlight that brightened the glistening ice. The veil that surrounded her was gone; he could finally look upon the being that had bested the goddess of commerce. Right away, he was struck by the striking resemblance she bore to the Cadrian monarch. He'd known, of course, that she was his daughter. But he saw far more than just the blood connection.

There was something about the way she looked at him. The cold, dismissive gaze sent shivers down his spine. It made him feel like a weed in a storm about to be blown away. He had to cling to the dirt for dear life, to really dig his feet into the snow beneath him. Even though she looked the part of a child.

Only then did he realise that he couldn't feel his toes. Or anything, for that matter. Something was wrong with his body. The whole thing had turned ghastly pale. It was mostly translucent, as if not really there at all. He almost wouldn't have been surprised if he suddenly started turning to dust and fading away.

That was when he finally understood.

He was without his flesh. She had ripped his soul from his body and laid his existence bare.

The mountain was not just a temple, nor even a magical domain. It was like The Hall to Vella, The Forge to Dorr, and The Garden to Primrose. She had spirited him away beyond the distortion in spacetime that belonged only to those who reigned above. She'd taken him to her divine realm—the dominion where she was absolute.

He didn't understand how it was possible.

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He'd known that she was probably a celestial, but she was barely nineteen years old. Her form made it clear that she'd ascended in childhood, likely somewhere around ten or twelve years of age. But even then, she couldn't have been a celestial for much more than half a decade. There simply wasn't enough time for her to build so much divinity, especially not with her name still largely unknown.

It wasn't just the Alliance that knew nothing about her. Not even the Cadrians knew the concept over which she ruled.

She shouldn't have been nearly powerful enough, divine enough, to have snatched a piece of the world above for herself.

But there she was.

Sitting in front of him.

Upon a deity's throne.

Only then did he realise his folly.

He wasn't just imagining the pressure. Nor was he mistaken when he thought that he'd felt it before.

It was the same sensation he'd endured when he visited the goddess' temple and sought her seers' advice. The same strangling weight. The same chilling power.

It was her divinity on full display.

The very power that he assumed she lacked.

It was terrifying. It was so heavy that he was convinced he'd soon be crushed. But somehow, it scared him less than the words that soon left her mouth.

"You have nothing to offer me. If I wanted your people's worship, I would just destroy your cities, order your subservience, and kill all who dared to disobey."

Hemlik gulped. He trembled and shuddered as he matched her ice-cold gaze. He didn't want to admit it, but there was a chance he'd just doomed his people by offering their allegiance and reminding her that there was value in their subjugation.

He still didn't know where it'd all gone wrong. The allseer had personally confirmed that the goddess approved of his plan. It couldn't have been flawed unless the allseer was lying—betraying him for foolishly entrusting her with his dreams. either that, or their goddess was wrong. Both possibilities filled him with dread, but only for a moment. He knew that they were impossible. The allseer was the one who had looped him into the coup in the first place. She was the one who wanted to topple the government and the one who had wanted to work for the common good. There was no reason for her to entrap him, especially not after their night of passion. And the goddess, the goddess could never be wrong. She was the goddess of fate—the one who dictated how the world's story threads were weaved, the one who guided those destined for greatness to their predetermined conclusions.

There was no mistaking it. Though she showed no sign of being convinced, the celestial before him was far from out of reach.

His confidence renewed, Hemlik took another breath and got to his knees.

"Forgive me, Lady Augustus," he said. "I got ahead of myself and did not present myself as was necessary. I implore you to provide me with an opportunity to begin anew."

She fixed her eyes upon him for what felt like an eternity before she opened her mouth.

"Fine."

"Thank you." He placed a fist against his chest. "I am honoured to be in your presence. Your might is so overwhelming that I was incapable of immediately discerning it. May I ask over what it is that you reign?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You seek my aid, not even knowing that?"

"I apologize for my ignorance. We, the Obloyd people, are denied any knowledge of happenings within Cadria's lands. We are only aware of the extent of your strength and your ability to fell the gods. Our people are in need of salvation. We need someone, anyone, with the strength to show us the light."

He'd given up on making a deal. If a steady supply of divinity was of no value, then he and his people had nothing else to offer, at least not to a princess with a powerful nation at her beck and call. Money was not a factor, she could have very well have had any man she wanted, and there was no such thing as a novelty for anyone even remotely omnipotent.

His one choice was to believe in the goodness of her heart.

"Please, I beg you. Our children are dying, starving in their mothers arms. Sons can do nothing but watch as their fathers are sent off to be slaughtered in needless wars. We are helpless. We can do nothing but watch as tragedy after tragedy unfolds. Our only choice is to fight. But without enough power, we're destined to do nothing but fall."

He clasped his hands together and begged.

It was a shameful, pathetic display, one that would have had his younger self cringing and contemplating suicide. But Hemlik had no need for his pride. He would happily throw it away time and time again if it meant furthering his cause.

"I don't care."

But he was stonewalled by her cold indifference.

"Wha—" His jaw practically dropped, frozen in disbelief. He didn't understand how she felt no pity for the weak, how she could simply continue to watch him with her gaze frozen over.

"Why are you even here?" she asked. "If you want to overthrow your government, then pick up a weapon and head to parliament."

"I can't. They're too strong. I don't stand a chance."

"Then get stronger."

He bit his lips and clenched his fists. "I've tried."

"Try harder."

"That's easy for you to say. You're strong."

"I wasn't always."

"Yeah, right," he said, with a scoff. "You were born to Virillius Augustus, the man who overpowered an aspect while only once ascended. I can't even begin to imagine the sort of ridiculous blood that runs through your veins."

"You make it sound like you had no cards to play."

"I didn't."

The celestial sighed. Snapping her fingers, she changed the world again, suddenly bringing them to a familiar homestead where an all-too-familiar dristle waded through a field with his tentacles still stained in blood.

A much smaller member of his species, a younger Hemlik Raja, sprinted through the field, running far, far away as the man limped after him, knife in hand.

Another snap, and the scene warped again. Three, maybe four years older, Hemlik cowered before an eldritch goat, watching from under a bush while the archer who was his then lover desperately drew it away.

And then a third, accompanied by a scene where he stood just inches behind Kollond's throne. Its king was seated upon it, speaking of some deal or other. Even unarmed, he had the perfect chance to wrap his tentacles around the pig's neck and snap it right in two. But he didn't. Having gauged that he'd have to follow any such attack by fighting the guards head-on, he'd refrained and continued to play the part of a loyal aide.

So on and so forth, they sped through his memories.

"You have always chosen cowardice over combat."

"I admit, there may have been a few times where I probably could have fought," he said, "but I made the right choices. I needed to survi—"

"You needed to fight," she said.

"You're insane," he said.

"I'm perfectly sane," she said. "You're just an idiot." Suddenly, they were back in the very first memory. "You could have easily ambushed Gedeon in the field. His leg was already broken. All you needed was to pick up a rock and bash him in the back of the head. Instead, you allowed him to leave. Even after he slaughtered your family."

"That's easy for you to say."

Sighing, she changed the world again and returned him to the scene with the goat. "Here, you should have fought head-on. You knew that it was poisoned. Aloise wouldn't have had to die if you'd just joined her in stalling for time." And then to the scene before the throne. "And here, it was even easier. The guard on your left wasn't paying attention. You could have taken his spear, slit his throat, and impaled the king before the one on the right reacted."

"The whole castle was crawling with guards. There's no way I could've possibly fought my way out."

"Only because you're stupid enough to think that you can only go through doors." She rose from the throne, walked to a nearby wall, and demolished it with a tap of the knuckle. "You were only three layers from freedom. You're weak because you're a spineless idiot. You'd have been much stronger if you focused on anything but fear."

He bit his lips.

He hated how convincing she sounded.

Like it was all his fault for never facing his fears.

"But you're in luck," she said, with a faint, devilish smile. "I happened to be in need of a guinea pig."

When he raised his eyes from his feet, he found her just half a step away. Raising one hand, she wrapped a talon around his face.

It was an odd mix of sensations. It started out as icy cold, but grew hotter and hotter with every passing moment. The heat spread throughout his body, invading his veins like burning magma. He screamed at the top of his lungs, but his voice was silent, never once leaking into his surroundings.

Though he tried to back away, his body was frozen, unmoving regardless of any orders received.

Only as she finally released him did he stumble backward, both hands against his face as he gasped for air.

The sensation persisted for a full minute. When it finally faded, he blinked back his tears to find himself returned to the princess' room.

"What did you do to me?" he asked. He coughed up a wad of blood. His internals had been thoroughly fried, but so too did he feel more focused and aware. If not a malediction, it was clearly some sort of blessing.

"Not quite as much as I would've liked."

He was just about to open his log and inspect the blessing when someone burst through the door. It was one of the otherworldly fighters crowned as an Obloyd hero. She was an arachne, specifically one of the jumping spider variety.

"General!" she widened her eyes, drew her blade, and immediately turned it towards the princess.

"Don't!" shouted Hemlik.

But it was already too late.

The spider had already bounded towards the curtain and thrust her blade at the near-divine.

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