The three god faces stared at Alan from their spheres, floating amid the cosmos with Ojin’s mighty black orb looming in the center of it all. This was shaping up as if they convened for a sacred gathering—a last chance to make an impact before the conquerors overwhelmed all.

  Gosfor covered his eyes as dragons swirled around his face. “What will you do, fantastic Alan? What will any of us do?”

  The frogs’ vision brightened even more in his mind. Fantasies of rushing toward his enemy spheres on the other side of Ojin and crushing them in his grasp gave him a furious sense of purpose. He could end the conqueror’s reign and renounce himself immediately thereafter. Token’s citizens would be homeless for a time… but at least the universe would be as it was.

  He looked to the Unlikely Guds alliance floating before him between the twinkling stars. The extremes of fear, sureness, and chaos burned in each of them, and he wondered if he himself had become too extreme. Shoving the emotions away against his will.

  Had he become a heartless broker? Like the real estate developer crushing a town’s business?

  No. His purpose was noble.

  He’d restore order to the world by his grand act.

  New Godly Title Forming:

  Destroyer of Realms

  Do you accept this fate?

  Alan froze at the sight, recalling the anger of the frogs’ vision—the disgust on his expression. Not one of those realms were worthy of existing. They deserved to perish with their evil gods. That was the sentiment of the destroyer.

  “Does a conqueror need a destroyer?” Alan asked his fellow gods. “Is that the only way?”

  “Alan, goodness, your realm is becoming corroded in black dread.” Gosfor peeked through his stubby fingers.

  Alan floated forward and turned around to see it true. It was the first time he was able to behold Token in its entirety. There were parts of him etched in the rotating sphere. Clouds from Earth, landmarks with coined figures—mountains shaped as a Borai’s roaring face, lakes in the shape of a gryphon. It was beautiful… and corrupted. Dread dripped from the north pole like black blood. A lightning storm crept up from the south. Was this his doing?

  “Nuh uh uh!” Mujungo shook his long headdress. “Look at that desire manifesting. Careful now, Mister Alan, or soon your realm will look like Jaeger’s.”

  “Alan.” Orevella put down her knitting sticks. “There is more than one way to skin a cat. I, of Hutten Fie, am proof. A conqueror may fall to a destroyer, just as they may also fall to someone refusing to be destroyed.”

  A soothing ocean swirled around Alan’s head, numbing the lightning that previously pierced it. His entire realm swished in his mind’s eye, as did the other part of the frogs’ vision. He recalled having a front row seat to a horrible struggle, the image of two golden ribbons wrapped around his arms as he fought to pull two realms together.

  New Godly Title Forming:

  Merger of Realms

  Do you accept this fate?

  Alan stared at the prompt, then waved it away to gaze directly at Orevella. “This road would be more difficult, and would result in less certainty for the universe.”

  “And yet I think the universe would be better off if we succeeded in this manner, don’t you?” Orevella challenged.

  A very human pang tickled Alan’s gut.

  “The knitter is right, me thinks.” Mujungo puckered his lips. “Without your aid in Strangey Town, my realm would’ve surely fallen. He he ho! Sometimes I wonder if we gods look at our mortals and envy them. Wwwwoooopy!”

  Another pang struck him. The feeling of heeding Flint’s call meant everything to him a short time ago. Yet now, even though the memories were bright, the sentiment had long fleeted. Only echoes remained, testing him, reminding him of what he once was.

  Perhaps Mujungo was onto something.

  Maybe the best path was to live vicariously through them now.

  “You convinced me of my wrong turns, lovely Alan. Now let me convince you… that you were right.” Gosfor turned serious. “Unlikely Guds will bind those who wish to take a stand, even if they may need some convincing. What else is a Merchant’s job, after all?”

  The ocean swirling within his head evaporated into soothing steam.

  “Look behind you. I think you’ll find your realm bodes better with sound mind and body.” Gosfor nodded.

  Alan turned slowly to his realm once more. The dread pulled back. The oceans and lakes appeared bluer than ever, clouds a healthy white, coins shimmering like diamonds throughout the grounds.

  This is Token. This is what I’ve built with the people I cared for.

  This is worth fighting for.

  Alan squared his ethereal shoulders, evoking much needed sureness within himself. “Those of the dark realms—the Red Pact—they are not all evil. We have a duty to show them the way.”

  Orevella smiled pleasantly. “A lesson you taught me.”

  “And me.”

  “Mighty ho! Me. Me. Me.” Mujungo cartwheeled in another rotation.

  “It’s settled then.” Alan clenched his fist, absorbing the Title Merger of Realms and assuming all of the brokering powers therein. “Realms of the Unlikely Guds, I do hereby request your cooperation to literally band together in an effort to thwart the Red Pact.”

  “Arrriba!” Mujungo pumped his fist, which faded into sparkly stardust. “Alan. Alan. Alan. You’ve already earned the respect of Strangey Town. The realm itself does backflips to answer the call.”

  Warmth ran up and down Alan’s ethereal body.

  “We of the Royal Horde will adhere, Alan. And perhaps one day we will stand on that cliff you painted, together!”

  Alan nodded, then looked to Orevella. She was the true key. Patterns of armies the likes of which could defend against a revolution. “I’ve taken my leap. Now I ask you take yours.”

  “Hutten Fie…”

  Gosfor and Mujungo leaned forward in anticipation of Orevella’s next words, dragging their spheres closer to her’s.

  “…will answer the call.”

  Blistering power cycled Alan’s arms, turning into resplendent Yellow ribbons that reminded him of his father’s energy. The sentiment was fleeting, but Alan held on for dear life. Being mortal was the best of him. And now being a god… he had to echo his old life.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  **Unique God Ability—Realm Merging:

  Culminate the full might of your power to literally solidify the deals made between gods. By utilizing your golden will, latch onto the agreed-upon realm(s) and rope them into cohesive alliance in the plane of ultimate consciousness.

  Note: Realm Merging is a completely exhaustive power and will require intense recovery.

  Note: Merged realms will have clear boarders where the realm’s rules and prompts will apply. However, citizens of each would be able to seamlessly move about without first portaling to Ojin. Resources may be shared as agreed upon by the realms’ respective gods.

  Meld carefully.

  Alan understood fully what he was getting into now and silently asked the gods to retreat into their realm while he worked. The frogs provided him a blueprint on how straining the process would be. And so, with intense concentration, he barreled all of his godly strength into his right hand first, focusing on Strangey Town’s sphere.

  The clouds across the way emoted shocked faces as Alan’s ribbon came slithering for them. He would’ve laughed as a mortal, except the process was too intense to feel anything but undying pressure. As the ribbon wrapped the sphere, his torso tightened like he was stuck in a vice, his face became gaunt… He was spreading himself thin. And once he fully latched onto the zany realm, his finger was on its pulse.

  Flying squirrels and watchful island trees brightened in his mind. The strain of the last battle was still upon them, as well as the fear of what was to come. If nothing else, Strangey Town was a resilient realm. Comradery and togetherness was a palpable force among its people… and something Alan greatly admired about them. He focused on that worth as he pulled with all his might.

  A deep bellowing resonated throughout the cosmos as he heaved. Shockwaves like planetary explosions soared far into the distance—which Alan hoped would never reach the Red Pact.

  His ethereal body grew hot like a sun, emanating light from his eyes, defying everything he once knew about having a mortal vessel. Suffering temperatures that could eviscerate a galaxy was something only his godly gaseous form could sustain. Of course… he was pulling a planetary sphere, after all… in a plane his mortal eyes could never understand.

  The process was grueling. He could feel every inch of the sphere dragging through the cosmos and worried greatly whether there was a time lapse between ultimate consciousness and reality. For all he knew, these crucial seconds were days in Token. The Red Pact could already be on them.

  He had to push harder.

  Thinking of the frogs’ vision, he decided to pull two spheres at once.

  I’m going to save the realm if it kills me. Otherwise, what’s the point of all this?

  He whipped the second ribbon around the Royal Horde sphere. Sentiments of fealty and competition riled Alan, empowering him to pull harder.

  Each heave started out impossibly difficult and eventually loosened when the sphere gained a bit of momentum. He’d wrap another layer of ribbon and repeat the process.

  I am a mover of worlds, he told himself, gritting his smoking teeth, squinting his lit eyes.

  The closer the spheres got, the more painful the process became. Sensory overload grew chaotic. Wizards suffering grave wounds from Hyndole’s attack on Strangey Town, Gosfor’s worry for his people, Dreamcatchers sharing Saro to rebuild the realm… Alan experienced it all as if he were living their lives. As he leaned back into Token, there came an enormous sense of security. Not his own but that of his citizens. Rescuing Brack refugees and culminating an idea of prosperity from the constructed town meant everything. But mixed with the rawness of the other two realms… it was too much for a god to feel.

  He experienced history of generations past, and generations still yet to come.

  Heave!

  He worried his form would dissipate forever and he’d just be a floating consciousness meant to contemplate the ways of the universe. It would be blissful perhaps… unburdened by the chaos of living.

  All of a sudden, the wraps loosened so close to merging with Token.

  “No.”

  His arms fell to dust.

  “No! Why?”

  He looked down to his chest to see a beating luminescent heart slow considerably. Was this the exhaustion he was warned about?

  God Prompt:

  You have reached the point of fatigue. In order to preserve your progress and complete your task, call upon your citizens to prop you up. Request they pray in your name to give you strength.

  The suggestion tested all of Alan’s godly ego. He was meant to protect them. What type of a pathetic over-watcher would he be if—

  Both Strangey Town and the Royal Horde spheres twisted in opposite directions, away from Alan, all while his arms continued to dissipate up to the shoulders. Humility was never something he had a problem with. He’d been stomped on through two lifetimes to build up that set of armor. What had being a god turned him into?

  He thought of his father abandoning all of his shame just to help out his family, then closed his eyes tight to will a message to his people.

  God Projection:

  Citizens of Token. I vow to spend every ounce of my power to defend the realm, to avenge our fallen. And to do so, I need your assistance. Lend me your light! Pray for your god… give me strength enough to defend against the Red Pact.

  Alan’s legs began to dissipate next, followed by his chin and hair. There was no note about reaching beyond his own strength to merge realms. Perhaps it was because he tried two at once. Though if he hadn’t… he wouldn’t have the firepower to withstand the Red Pact.

  Are my citizens ignoring me?

  Have I been a futile god to them?

  Do I even exist?

  Melancholy came swiftly and in an extreme manner, true to a god’s way.

  All of the faith I put in everyone around me… had they none in me?

  The stardust of his failing gaseous body sprinkled around him, shedding like dead glimmering skin. He thought hard about his memories—recalling all of the Saro he’d pulled thanks to his past. But nothing worked here. He no longer had the same emotional connection to his old lives. Godhood stripped that from him.

  “I would rather have died a mortal,” he whispered to himself as the last bits of him floated off into the cosmos. “At least then I could cherish what I once had.”

  He watched the spheres slowly spin farther from his lacking grasp.

  “What’s the point of memory supreme if I cannot connect to it?”

  He was only eyes and a slowly beating heart at this point, the cosmic pulses echoing through his consciousness, slowing. Slowing.

  In his final moments, a memory of Neesha bloomed to life. He trekked up a mountain beside her, taking her hand as they shared a smile. She told him she didn’t trust him one bit… but her arm wrapped around his said something else entirely. This was before Gregorian, before Trish made her terrible reemergence. It was just them… and it was nice.

  Alan actually felt that moment. It was so blissful, he was okay with drifting away as nothingness.

  He laughed to himself, wondering which of his two lives was better. The one with loving parents where he was constantly stepped on, or the one where he spawned alone as a prophesized Herald with great power? His conclusion?

  They were both great…

  He surrendered to that thought and was grateful for the gift of emotion again. It was like his godly shell was warding all mortal feeling away, and now that it had dissipated almost entirely, the spell was broken.

  “Alan, you saved us from imprisonment in our own home. We pray for you,” a faint voice reached his mind.

  “You were a friend before you were a protector, and now you are both,” Elkire’s voice came through. “Stop this madness however you can, so that one day we can go back home.”

  Strength rushed back through his cosmic heart, rewinding the stardust back into form. Like he’d been struck by lightning, willful purpose coursed through him once more.

  “Aha! From the very first day, I knew you’d save the universe. Now I pray for it to be true! Come back to us, god of Token! Friend of Flint! Come back to us with the power we need to ward off this great evil.”

  Heat flooded his form, which spun back into shape. He whipped his ribbons again around the two spinning spheres and heaved with all his might.

  My friends… I can feel them again.

  “You might be an idiot, but you’re our idiot.” Itsy’s voice made Alan laugh. “Don’t die on us now.”

  The laughter turned into determination. He leaned all the way back, using leverage simply by shifting the weight of his ethereal body. Shouting his celestial cry generated energy, helping to heave the spheres closer to Token.

  “I’ll always pray for you, Alan, even if you drive me nuts,” Neesha’s voice came through. “I’ll always pray you’ll come back to me.”

  A flood of emotion granted him the heat needed for one more momentous pull.

  “Rrrah!” He spun as his ribbons loosened, as the two spheres converged into Token side by side in a grand view, creating one massive realm before his eyes.

  Merging of realms didn’t take place how he understood physics in his first life. There was no crash or destruction, but rather an evolution of connecting spheres. The colors converged until a softened mix settled. Emoting clouds now blanketed the entire space, swirling with dragons and floating coins to represent each, while harsh glowing Saro fault lines acted as strict boundaries between the merged lands. Alan could feel each god’s power resonating within their lands.

  Collective anxiety of all citizens was immediately tempered by their gods. Gosfor and Mujungo assured this was part of the plan… and that they’d be better for it.

  Now with renewed determination and fleeting strength, Alan twirled both ribbons together with one swing of his ethereal arms. He gazed far at Hutten Fie—the largest of the spheres—and whipped them far to lasso the realm. His old memories worked again to reignite fervor. He could do this.

  Mom. Dad. Even Trish popped up to aid him. Being a god, he understood that nothing was absolute. All people and things were ever-changing. Trish could be both blissful and terrible, and he could appreciate one while hating the other.

  “Mphh!” He pulled with the entirety of his godly back, one hand over the other, winning a great tug-of-war game as the massive patterned sphere spun closer to Token.

  “Hate me or not, Alan. You will win this,” Lucius’ voice pierced his mind. “I believe it to be true.”

  “Arh!” He pulled the last of the sphere to convergence, and with an exhale of pure exhaustion, he dropped from ciousness back into Token.