“You don't have to wait here with me.” Emma says. Her eyes are focussed on her sleeping father. He is laying on a comfortably fluffy bed in one of the [Lords] rooms. Next to the bed is a table, and sitting on the table is a cat.

“I don’t have to, yea. But then I’d feel guilty. Your dad fought the Buxon and put his life on the line. Then he got hurt because I’m weak.”

“He’s a leveled Buxon and a master in combat. Only the [Lord] would have the ability to fight him in single combat.”

Quasi shakes his head. “No, Calvaron was fast and decently skilled, but nowhere near as good as me.The only reason he won was his bloated stats and my own inability to wield a weapon. If I had a way to parry his ax, then he’d be dead. If only my damn hands could hold a weapon properly.” The cat pouts.

Emma pauses for a moment as she digests the cat's words. If not for the rather convincing pout, she’d think Quasi to be lying.

“Why can't you hold a weapon?”

“Hands. The muscles in a Fenrimorphs hands are made for clawing and not grasping. In theory, I should be able to fix that with practice. But that practice is slow going. I could probably speed it up by leveling up control, but I don’t think that would work like I expect.”

“What if you wore gauntlets?” Emma asks.

Quasi pauses.

“That… could work if the metal is strong enough. Huh, I’d need to design the gauntlets and then find someone who can make them.”

“I could do it.” Emma exclaims.

“You’re a [Runesmith], right? Don't you work with runes?”

She shakes her head. “Anyone can create runes, but a [Runesmith] specializes in molding metal to install runes. I could make those gauntlets for you.”

Quasi tilts his head at her as he digests her words. He focuses on her posture and the eagerness of her voice.

“You’re not telling me something. You’re keeping something back. If you want me to even consider that, I’m going to expect honesty. What are you keeping back from me and why are you willing to help me?”

“I,” she pauses, and frowns. “I’m not a [Runesmith]. I’m a [Smith]. [Runesmith] is an Advanced class of [Smith]. I’m a level 24 [Smith], and If I want to get that next level, I have to do something completely out of the ordinary. I have to make something both amazing and unique. I think making those gauntlets may give me that level.”

“Uh huh. You still haven’t answered the why yet.”

Her hands ball into fists.

“I want- no. I need levels. I need to become better- stronger. I don’t want to just stay on the sidelines and watch my father get hurt. I want to be able to do something.”

The cat rolls his eyes. “Getting more levels isn’t going to turn you into a fighter. Training and experience will. Those levels will just give you better stats to use that training and experience.”

“So…”

“Your dad had training. He has good form and footwork. If you want to be able to hold up in a fight, then you’re going to need training.”

The cat grins.

“I’ll allow you to make me those gauntlets, but I’m going to expect you to start learning to fight if you level.”

Quasi raises a paw. “Deal?”

She grabs the paw. “Deal!”

“Hm. You two are far too loud.”

Quasi’s and Emma’s eyes turn to the voice. Affinov’s eyes are open and he is staring at them both. Still laying down and unmoving like the statue he is. But his eye are open.

“Dad!” Emma hugs her father.

“Oy, Emma, not too rough. The doctor says he needs to rest until his chest fully closes up on its own.”

Realizing what she’s doing, she back away a bit, though her hands are still touching her fathers shoulder.

“Dad, I’m so happy you’re alive.”

“I’ve been dealt worse.”

“Worse than getting your chest cut open?” She asks in surprise.

The statue looks at her. “Yes. I’ve had limbs severed and bones crushed. Those are far worse injuries than a chest wound.”

“What. When?”

“Ok,” Quasi interrupts. “You’re awake and talking about worse injuries. I think you’ll be fine. I’m going to go ahead and find a place to nap.”

Quasi hops off the table and walks to the door. He jumps and skillfully pulls the handle. Opens the door and walks out. Then a tail wraps around the outer handle and pulls the door shut.

The two Gemma stare at the door for several long seconds.

“When did you get injured?” Emma asks again.

“It was when I was aboard your mothers ship.”

Emma frowns. “Before she died, right?”

Her father looks away from his daughter and stares at the ceiling. Though his body shows no movement, his eyes speak of hesitation.

Then that hesitation breaks.

“She’s not dead.”

“What?” Emma exclaims in surprise.

“Ganarra isn’t dead. I lied when I said she was killed.”

“But, you said she was killed by [Assassins]. And then those [Assassins] wanted to kill me. So you took me to Breston for safety.”

“A lie, though not all of it. I did take you to Breston for your safety.”

“Then what… why? Why is she not here?”

“Your mother is Ganarra the Amber Queen. She is one of the most wanted [Pirates] to sail the sea. [Bounty Hunters] and [Assassins] are constantly looking to end her life. They’ve even come close too- when she was pregnant with you, that is.”

Emma’s mouth is wide open as she stares at her fathers avoidant gaze.

“When you were born, we figured that it would be far too dangerous to raise you aboard her ship - or anywhere near her. That’s why we decided that it would be best for me to raise you somewhere safe and as far away from her as possible until you are of age.”

“My mother is alive… and she's a [Pirate]. You worked on a pirate ship?”

“Yes. I was in charge of keeping all the runes running and forging whatever materials were needed.”

“I-I can't. I can't believe my mother is alive.”

“She is. When we return home, I will give you everything I have from her.”

Emma nods with a smile.

“Then, I will help you make those gauntlets.”

Her eyes seem to pop out.

“You were awake!”

“I was trying not to be, and now I will try again. Please be quiet.”

Affinov closes his eyes.

________________________________________________________________

Walking through the hallway, I am met with the curious glances of [Maids]. Many of which are happy to partake in the petting process. Of which I obliged. But, eventually, the pettings end and I find myself in front of a rather fancy door. Hopping up, I unlock the door and allow it to swing open.

Across the glowing carpet, I find a single desk and a lady reading through a stack of papers. The woman is dressed very well- like someone very important. She glances up from her papers and looks at me.

“A cat?” She asks, confused. Then smiles. Her legs move and the carpet stops glowing.

“Here, kitty.” She taps her desk eagerly.

“Meow.”

I rush across the carpet and hop onto the desk. Within a moment, she picks me up and starts petting.

“Awww, whose a good kitty!”

With her dextrous hand stroking me, I begin to pur.

This should be a pretty safe place.

I close my eyes and allow sleep to finally take me.

_________________________________________________________

Within the domain of gods, more specifically, Pandora’s domain. Gods and goddesses rest, relax, and mingle with one another in a room similar to what you’d expect of a strip club. But instead of strippers to watch, glowing portals reveal interesting happenings within Tristique. All minor happenings that are far from any gods' champion. It wouldn’t do to reveal anything noteworthy, like the location of a champion or something that could easily be capitalized.

For the most part, what the portals show are battles. Some on ground, but most aboard airships.

One such goddess lounging on one of the sofas is a short single-eyed girl drinking a beverage she’d never tasted before. Surrounding her are several more Goddesses. And above their heads are numbers. Single digit numbers to be exact.

“Eighteen, and a human?” One goddess with a seven on her head asks, surprised. The goddess is in the form of a bipedal dog with antlers coming out the sides of her head.

The one-eyed goddess nods smugly. She glances at the 18 floating above her head. “Yes, Yazula has impeccable taste in champions.” She says with a puff of her chest.

“But a human, really?” Another goddess that is a glowing ball of light asks. This one has a six above her head. “I heard only a single group of humans passed the test.”

“Yea. I thought humans were pretty weak.” A third goddess, this one with a three on top of her head. This goddess is even shorter than Yazula and looks like a human girl mixed with a mouse.

The one-eyed Yazula sighs haughty. “Yazula understands your confusion. Yazula even believes your confusion is justifiable. So Yazula will explain why Yazula believes you are wrong.”

The three other goddesses lean forward in interest to listen to a goddess with such a high leveled champion. Considering the average level in the room is eleven. It is understandable for those lower at the totem pole to listen to advice.

Yazula pauses as her mind whirls rapidly. The three goddesses lean closer, ready for her explanation.

And the little gerbil within her head runs faster and faster.

Just as confusion starts to rest within the three goddesses at why Yazula has yet to answer.

Something clicks into place.

“Luck!”

“Luck?” The three goddesses repeat in unison.

“Yes, luck.” She taps her chest. “Yazula is a goddess of luck. Yazula believes that since only one group of humans survived the trial, then Yazula thinks that those humans are very lucky.”

Number 6 frowns. “You chose your champion because you think they are lucky.”

Yazula nods confidently. Like an aristocrat, or more like someone trying to act like they are more important than they actually are.

“That’s stupid.” Number 7 exclaims. “You can’t rely on luck for your champion. Luck will eventually run out, everyone knows that.”

Yazula quickly grabs her drink and starts drinking to hide her growing panic.

“But she still has one of the highest leveled champions.” Number 3 adds. “Maybe she knows something we don't?”

As Yazula drinks, she mentally determines that number 3 is her favorite goddess now.

“And that's why you’re the lowest leveled in this entire room.” Number 7 growls. “I am out of here.”

She gets up and starts walking away.

Number 6 vibrates. “She’s right. Your luck will run out eventually. It always does.” Then the ball floats away.

Number 3 watches the others leave. Her ears flicker as though in annoyance. Not at anyone, but more along the lines of the situation. Then she shakes her head and slaps her cheeks in a very Yazula like way.

“Let them leave.” Number 3 exclaims. “I’m sure their champions won't survive long.”

“Yazula agrees.” She says happily while placing her glass that has been finished long before back on the table. “Yazula did not get your name.”

“You want to know my name?” The mousey goddess asks in surprise.

Yazula leans back on her couch like a very petite mafia boss. Her legs are folded and her expression is cocky and confident. Also red from the drink. Gods don't normally get drunk, but Pandora’s drinks seem to be an exception.

“Yes, Yazula finds your company far more capable than…” She pauses dramatically and points a single arm haphazardly in the direction of the other two goddesses. “Them.”

“It’s Mus!” She squeaks happily. “I’m a goddess of Magic!”

Yazula nods slowly. “Yazula finds it nice to meet you, Mus.”

“Same!” Mus giggles cutely.

An urge to pet Mus rises within Yazula. She can feel the muscles in her hand tense with expectation and wanting. It would be so easy to just pet the cute girl. So very easy. She need only lean forward.

BUT Yazula is a woman of great self control. Yazula is a great goddess of luck, and acting in such a uncivilized way detracts from that. Nay, she is the supreme authority of her body and no amount of cuteness will - Mus’s tail swishes happily on her backside.

Before Yazula knows it, her hand betrays her. It lashes out and covers the top of Mus’s head with remarkable dexterity, speed, and utter betrayal.

When Mus squeak-giggles, the rest of Yazula’s self control is destroyed as she grabs the girl and sets her on her lap.

“Y-Yazula. That tickles.” Mus continues giggling as Yazula treats Mus like a kitten.

Eventually, some self control returns to the goddess of luck.

“Yazula is curious,” Yazula begins, “Why are you level three? Did something happen?”

Mus nods after a moment. “When I chose my champion, she was summoned to an island that was being attacked by pirates. The pirates killed everyone and destroyed all the ships. Now my champion is stranded alone on the island. I’m hoping a ship comes close to help.”

“Yazula thinks you are very unlucky.”

Mus shakes her head. “Maybe, but my champion is very sweet and nice. I like her a lot.”

“Yazula does not think being nice is good to win the games.”

The mousey girl shrugs. “I don’t care about winning. I just want to see a new world and have lots of fun.”

Yazula squeezes Mus even harder- causing Mus to squeal-giggle, which causes Yazula to squeeze even harder.

But, as in all life, the cuteness will eventually end.

“ATTENTION ALL GODS PRESENT.” Pandora’s voice bubbles throughout the room. The portal visuals disappear and all around go silent. They all look to the stage where Pandora’s ever-shifting form stands, sits, and floats.

“It has been a long time since the games began, and many levels have been gained since then. At the same time, there have been many losses of champions. When the games began, three hundred and eighty four champions were chosen. But now, that number is down to eighty three- and I expect it to go significantly lower by the end of the first year.”

Pandora’s body constantly shifts with the faces of gods that have been disqualified over the time.

“To help facilitate the process, I think a bit of rivalry would do you all good. Let me introduce to you all the top three.

Pandora taps together two antlered hands, and then three gods are instantly teleported to his side. One god has 24 above his head, while both of the other two have 19. The three gods look confused, but immediately go with the flow and stay silent.

“In the first place we have Machina.” Pandora extends a tentacle towards a hulking metal robot. The robot is three Yazulas tall and a good fifty Yazula’s heavy. “Machina is a Major god of logic and has consistently outpaced everyone else's champion in levels. Machina, do you have anything to say to your competition?”

“Negative. Any information revealed will reduce my success chance by a minimum of 0.0063%”

Pandora’s three heads nod. “An interesting answer, albeit a boring one. Let's see if your closest competition will agree.

Pandora turns his table towards the next two. Both are hulking giants. One is smothered in spikes throughout his body; the most notable of the spikes are the massive red tusks and a bouquet of sharp horns.

The other is similarly large, but is a giant snake with six arms as thick as Yazulas hips.

“These two are tied with both second and third place.”

The two look at each other with wary respect. They are both Major gods who have lived a very long time and control not only planets, but entire solar systems.

“The one without legs and several arms is Semetrial, god of Serpents and Hunger. The other one with all the spikes is Spinak, god of Penetration and Slaughter. Let us start with Semestrial. Do you have something to say to your competition?” Pandora waves a wing towards the audience.

Semetrial looks at all those present with a look of hunger. “I will devour each and every one of you. Your champion will fill my belly with-” Pandora shoves an armored clawed metal foot in front of Semetrial and interrupts him.

“Apologies, but I need you to leave.”

“What?” Semetrial asks.

Pandora points up. Semetrial looks up and finds no number.

“Tha-” He disappears.

“Well, that was quite unexpected, but it seems the number just dropped to eighty-two champions.”

Pandora gazes at the audience with fifty eyes. “With Semetrial gone, second place goes to Spinak. But that opens up third place, which means… oh, this is rather interesting. Pandora clicks two branches.

Mus squeals in surprise as her current seat disappears.

_______________________________________________________________________

One moment Yazula was petting a mousey girl, and the next she’s getting stared at by the rest of the gods on a stage as though she was an unexpected stripper.

When she looks around, she finds Pandora to one side, and the spiked god that had yeeted her across the room long ago.

The god glares at her with both surprise and anger. “Fresh Meat.” He exclaims with a sharp smile.

Yazula steps back in growing fear of the massive behemoth.

“Now, now. No need for aggression yet. Introduction first.” Pandora interrupts soothing. He looks towards the audience. “As you can see, Yazula, a minor goddess of luck, is now in third place. A rather interesting circumstance. It has been a very long while since a Minor goddess was on this stage.”

He then turns to Spinak.

“Spinak, is there anything you’d like to say to the audience?”

Spinak growls. “I will bring death and destruction to you all. My champion will slaughter, eviscerate, and devour your pathetic choices.” He then turns to Yazula. “As for you, I know not how your champion leveled so much, but it was clearly a stroke of incredible luck. But that luck will not last, and I will take pleasure as your champion ceases to level or dies.”

“That is quite the statement.” Pandora exclaims passionately with a swing of a tail. “Have you any words little Yazula?” He asks.

Yazula swallows. “Yazula thinks your breath smells very bad. Yazula recommends brushing your teeth.”

The crowd goes completely silent as Spinak reveals more of his sharpened teeth as he looks down upon this little girl that dares to talk so brazenly.

“I will brush my teeth with your remains.”

“Yazula’s remains are far too adorable to be used for teeth cleaning. Though Yazula believes the cleaning would be very effective.”

Spinak growls angrily. He balls a fist, but does not move as Pandora’s translucent eye is squarely on him. It would not do to anger one such as him.

“Keep yapping that mouth of yours. Your champion will never surpass the level of mine. Your luck will run out and then that little number above your head will dissap-”

Spinak stops talking as the number eighteen changes to twenty.

All seven of Pandora's heads grin. “Ohhhh, this is so exciting.”

Yazula, somehow, seeing this, puffs out her chest. “Hmmmm? What was that? Yazula believes she heard you say Yazula’s champion will never surpass your cha-”

A portal opens directly underneath the goddess. She fall through, but her hands grab on the side.

“NOOOOO, not now. Yazula still needs to gloat. Yazula will not accept thiiiiiiiiisssss.” Her hands give way and she is sucked through.