Alan fell from the sky, not for the first time. Golden motes lingered like tears in his wake. He had a body again… Inspecting his hand of flesh and bone reminded him of what he once was—a mortal—even though it was just another godly vessel. Though something was different this time. He was re-summoned with less of those guardrails repelling his past.

  As he reflected on what he’d just accomplished in ultimate consciousness, as the winds of Token whipped his back, a familiar voice swooped in from below.

  “Aha!”

  Poomf!

  Alan landed in a soft patch of snow on the back of an ice sled.

  “See! I told you there was nothing to worry about. I have the aim of a rapoogoo beast!” Flint curved the sled toward the mountains.

  Neesha scoffed, pressing both hands on Alan’s ailing chest. The cloth he was draped in resembled cashmere, indicating a richness he’d never known, and the hands of his Stone Chaser pressing atop him was warm again.

  Alan smiled, wrapping one of his hands around her wrist.

  Her eyes widened.

  She must’ve felt it too. The connection that was lacking since he became a god… returned.

  “What happened to you up there?” she said. “What have you done?”

  “Ho. Ho…” Flint looked over his shoulder while popping his staff to glide them to safety. “Alan just saved the universe.”

  “Not yet, I didn’t.” He got to his elbows, wincing.

  A stern pink-tipped finger shoved in his face. “You rest. Don’t think we didn’t see the prompts. Merging one realm can make a god cease to exist… and you merged three into ours.”

  “And now I must assure the citizens it’s for our betterment.”

  “Oh they know, good Alan.” Flint smiled. “Madam Mar is an experienced watcher, and a familiar voice to many of those who reside here. She calmed them well.”

  Alan exhaled with relief. “Good. Good.”

  “Mm. I’m starting to sense a tone I feared was lost forever,” Flint said.

  A smile crept up Alan’s face. “I hope your senses are true, friend. I do feel a bit lighter.”

  Neesha discretely grabbed Flint’s robe, like a massive burden had just lifted.

  Were they that worried of my state of mind?

  “Where are you taking me?” Alan asked, noting the familiar mountains.

  “To your throne room, of course. To rest,” Neesha said.

  Alan shook his head. “There are ways to rest without closing your eyes. Take me to the border of the Royal Horde. We must ensure prosperous trade to keep citizen morale up, and also invite warriors to cross train. Every willing body must cross into Hutton Fie to learn the discipline of a powerful army—”

  “Jolly ho, Alan, you should trust in those you put in place to govern,” Flint said. “You just performed a great deed—”

  “Jaeger will stop at nothing to conquer, and I can’t rest until he’s defeated,” Alan said. “To the border.”

  Flint reluctantly swerved to adhere, altering his slipstream path.

  Gryphons soared to their side as escorts. The Fate Chasers.

  “You have accomplished the impossible, great Alan.” Elkire saluted.

  “Well done, bruh.” Tenger winked. “Happy our departed didn’t go in vain.”

  Alan forced himself to his elbows once more. “Never in vain.” He held up a glowing fist, which he could tell sparked inspiration in the group. “We have new allies to welcome.”

  “And welcomed they are,” Elkire said, swooping low.

  As they soared toward the boarder, Alan sat all the way upright to witness multi-tiered Asian-style huts standing tall beside two massive wooden doors. Giant Borai stood guard behind them. The two he remembered near the Tower of Quest.

  “It is him! He is here!” Dolfi, the more talkative of the two Borai, banged on the stone railing and cranked the doors open.

  Flint took the sled down for a less-than-smooth landing, summoning a mound of snow to break their skidding slide. Thankfully, only he took the brunt of the snow to the face, turning his skin pink from the cold.

  “Sorry, friends, a little excitement is all.” He wiped himself.

  Alan struggled to his feet, using Neesha as his crutch. His gaze raised high past the opening doors to an amber sky conflicting with the crystal blue one at his back. A celestial crack like a crooked streak of black lightning separated them, representing the mending points of their realms.

  As Flint’s snow melted, there standing at the foot of the opened doors, was Gosfor, in all his pudgy glory, and Roland, his former right hand with long black hair and a starry robe.

  “How is it possible you stand after such a momentous feat?” Gosfor waddled up to the threshold.

  Alan held his chest, limping forward and accepting Flint when he rushed to help hold him up. “This is all quite new to me.”

  “It is new to all of us! I have been a god a long time, Alan, and this… this has never been done.”

  Alan pushed carefully off his friends to meet the god head on. “The visions were true, Gosfor. It is all coming together. The clairvoyant frogs… the encroaching evil… we have a duty to those willing to fight.” He glanced at Roland and Dolfi. “I know my purpose now, why the frogs convinced Mujungo to bring me here in the first place.”

  “That logic is sound, noble Alan.” Gosfor bowed his head.

  “To think I almost bested a god in battle.” Roland smirked.

  “Not even close.” Alan grinned right back. “We must dive into preparations, Gos. Jaeger is on his way.”

  “You have the full might of the Horde at your disposal, Alan. We will thwart the Red Pact together.”

  The declaration opened a world of prompts for Alan.

  Unlikely Guds Alliance Prompt:

  The Royal Horde is now open to your call. Mobilize your army as you see fit. The factions of the Royal Horde can be called upon through Saro techniques.

  Note: Use Orevella’s pattern skills to organize and deploy, if she lets you.

  Note: A god’s call does not interfere with a warrior’s free will. However, adherence will grant the defending warriors enhanced power, as defined by war protocols.

  Even reading the prompts gave Alan a splitting headache. But he had to forge on. He contemplated the different Horde factions Itsy once told him about. The green lands, palace lands, Strive Town, and the Iron Cellar. Gosfor told of more too. The snake’s den, healer’s journey, warrior’s ascendant, forger’s iron. The list was long and promising. They were a powerful self-run ecosystem that could expand to protect and prosper the alliance.

  He summoned his chariot from the sky. As the Ara-led train gracefully stopped beside the entrance, Alan was hoisted inside by his friends.

  “I need a bird’s eye view. Contact Madam Mar to isolate all known portal entrances. I imagine they’ve expanded since the realm merging. We’re more vulnerable the greater our mass in the universe. Isn’t that right, Roland?” Alan looked over the ledge.

  “That is true.”

  “You two can hop in, if you wish. We will need to work together to move quickly.” Alan beckoned the group.

  The chariot back seat magically became ethereal to allow for them to walk on seamlessly.

  “I expect you’ll be a gracious host to my citizens, Dolfi.” Alan smiled at the giant Borai.

  “The most gracious, noble Alan.” She bowed.

  As Ara took off, the inertia made Alan feel like a weak mortal. His joints burned and stomach swished around like poisonous sludge encumbered it.

  “You look most pale, Alan. Perhaps I can offer you some strummy tea, boiled in the natural springs of Gabloo.” Gosfor patted his shoulder from the back row.

  Alan held up his hand. “If we have time for a stop, I would like that. For now, let us call upon your watchers and locate the expanded portals.”

  He closed his eyes and syphoned Blue Saro from his fingertips, using his old mortal methods now that emotions weren’t cut off. In his mind’s eye, he sifted through the Horde’s citizens, searching boxed tower after tower—samurai Bladesmen training, Wizards battling, Dreamcatchers harvesting Saro to feed them. He couldn’t help but marvel at the meticulously designed architecture from these heights. The orange-stone streets were packed with Merchants and buyers. Lanterns hung off every Asian-style building.

  “The Royal Horde is quite developed.” Flint held his hat.

  “But of course,” Roland said haughtily. “We are a self-sustaining ecosystem. Through rigorous planning, we are now largely independent from Ojin and have dedicated a large section in the great greens to be untouched by Gosfor’s constructions. Minions that spawn in that area are assigned difficulty levels as a way to distribute Gosfor’s collection.”

  “I see. So you emulate Ojin in your own realm,” Flint said.

  “Quite right. Through hunting in the great greens or sport within the Towers of Quest, our warriors can earn their worth,” Roland said.

  “Very interesting indeed.” Flint nodded. “Mujungo is a more… random god, I think. He prefers we throw stones at him and humiliate ourselves to win his favor. It creates a more… zany type of humility. Aha!”

  “A nightmarish existence,” Roland scoffed.

  “To some, maybe. But I have great faith in my Strangey Town kin, and harbor a love for the creativity it invites.” Flint held up his finger.

  “Our hands are admirable creatures, aren’t they, Alan?” Gosfor chuckled.

  “Don’t let Itsy hear you refer to her brother as hand, otherwise she’ll slay us both.” Alan chuckled into a cough.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Gosfor was right, though. The conversation drummed up by Flint and Gosfor sent a visceral mix of Saro into Alan’s brain. As he watched the endless rows of Horde towers—shops, residences, and all—he began to gather a greater understanding of the universe.

  “The frogs spawn in Mujungo’s realm because it is unburdened by order and lets clairvoyance run free. There is value in chaos, Roland,” Alan said. “And, Flint, the Horde’s mighty collection of weapons and armor is garnered by sacrifices to Gosfor, some of which were spawned into existence purely by the respect of their citizens… which is derived from the order Gosfor and crew created. Each has its purpose. And together, each will help the alliance grow.”

  Alan began to see the realms in shifting colors. His understanding mixed with Saro, showing him intention, deception, order, chaos. The actions of the alliance’s warriors were becoming clear.

  Alliance Broadcast:

  First Inter-realm Trade Request:

  Bubbin of the Royal Horde wishes to exchange red spice for yellow essence crop grown under Token sun. Meet at the western border of Token if interested.

  Alan couldn’t help but smile at the idea. This was all he ever dreamed of. Bringing people together from worlds apart to develop an economy of his own making. That was what had interested him so much in the pawn shop so long ago. The undetermined values of obscure objects was the basis for a good deal. Here, though? The possibilities were endless.

  Thrum!

  The entire ground shook beneath them, causing the towers to shiver.

  Alliance Broadcast:

  Alert! Attempted Portal Opening in Strangey Town! Alert!

  Everyone turned to one another in shock, and Alan immediately commanded Ara to head straight to the threat.

  The chariot shook violently in the winds, where Flint tossed slipstreams to increase speed.

  “Alan, the event you went through makes you incredibly vulnerable.” Gosfor covered his eyes. “Retreat to your quarters, I beg of you.”

  “He’s right. What if they charge you with a god-ender?” Neesha said. “You’d be walking right into their blade.”

  Alan clenched his jaw, thinking of Hyndole’s nefarious fractured soul. “I’ll trust in my people to defend me.”

  The chariot whooshed at godly speeds, blurring all space around the golden gryphons. The sky changed not once, but twice—once for crossing into Token, and again for crossing into the wild clouds of Strangey. When the gryphons slowed, a budding crowd gathered around some of the island trees.

  Seeing a portal spin into existence tugged at Alan’s heart. The watchers were vulnerable yet again. Then a ball of powerful energy cartwheeled out of the trees and skipped right up to the portal. The one with the long headdress and scrawny arms—Mujungo.

  Alan got to his feet to see over his chariot. “Stay back, Mujungo,” he bellowed.

  “Puhleeeeeze!” Mujungo called back, waving. “Like they’d jump through head-first with a god-ender! Hah! Wait… Alan?” He scratched his head. “How in the zippy tree squirts are you conscious right now? By the frogs. Whenever I even fart in ultimate consciousness, I have to close my eyes for a week!”

  Alan groaned, holding his chest. “I’m fine, Mujungo. Just step back, please. We can’t afford to lose you.”

  Thrrmm!

  The gaseous portal grew more violent, causing Alan to beg Roland and Flint off the chariot as Strangey Town soldiers converged to guard Mujungo.

  With spears pointed portal-bound, everyone waited in anticipation.

  Dhdonk.

  Dhdonk.

  Large hanging fangs clanked as a tanned, scrawny leg slowly presented itself. A long face emerged next, stretched with bone jewelry and spaced-out teeth. Deep-set eyes were blackened around the rims, and two red paint marks looked like thumbprints on his forehead. He gripped a lantern with Variant Saro and hobbled until he was fully through.

  “I knew you would be here.” The skulls on his neck rattled from his throaty vocal chords.

  Mujungo stopped skipping, and his face grew petrified by the sight.

  “The mischievous boy taken too soon.” His eyes centered on the god, becoming dilated as they locked.

  “Flint, control this,” Alan whispered, stepping off his chariot. “Now.”

  He then took a deep breath—ignoring his burning joints and flaring lungs—and pressed through the soldiers. “What is your purpose for entering a realm unannounced and uninvited, sir?”

  The witch doctor’s black eyes drifted from Mujungo and landed on Alan. Intense power radiated from him. Not godly, but that of a crimson wanderer, like Afarus.

  “You gods and conquerors always latch your slippery fingers around what you can. Mine. Mine. Mine. Greedy weeds.” His head shook, rattling all of his piercings. “I have come to rescue my nephew from it.”

  Nephew? Mujungo?

  Alan’s mind was on fire. He could sense the Saro within this man and residue of the crimson fog, like he expected. He was a Colorless. At least, he’d learned to be Colorless, like Afarus had. There was not an ounce of fear radiating from within him.

  The question was… why now?

  It reeked of the Red Pact. Just like Hyndole using Trish to get to Alan, so too would they try again to get Mujungo.

  Another critical problem: If this man was from the Red Pact, they now knew the realms had merged. Alan took one look at the lantern, and an instant trance told him it was a Dreamcatcher’s weapon found in the center of a deep cave.

  “The Ritsuki tribe is not welcome in Strangey Town.” Mujungo pointed. “Even you, Uncle Fatuk.”

  The clouds all became angry with black stormy horns, begging the witch doctor to tilt his head to the sky.

  “That’s right. I built this realm and found my way in the universe, even after you exiled me.” Mujungo balled his fists.

  “Still a child… after all this time,” Fatuk said dismissively, swinging his lantern toward the others.

  “Are you taking stock of your nephew’s realm?” Alan folded his arms.

  “Scanning for power, as was part of my exchange for this information, Merchant,” he hissed.

  Flint dashed beside his god and attempted to swath him in part of his robes, but Mujungo pushed him off.

  “Why would a crimson walker strike a deal with a god as foul as Jaeger?” Alan poked, earning the witch doctor’s eyes once more.

  “You assume much, Merchant. Perhaps I am a mere wanderer who was in search of his history.”

  “Should’ve thought of that before you let me starve in the mountains.” Mujungo folded his arms, eyes sparking with red lightning.

  “Starved in the mountains?” Alan said. “I thought you were a jester writing plays for royalty in your Origin world.”

  Mujungo pushed his lips to either side. “I may have, hmm, borrowed a vision or two and pretended they were my own, Alan. Apologies. But that jester does play a part in your future. He does.”

  “Pfah. Typical.” The witch doctor held up a crooked finger. “You were warned many times to behave, little Mujungo. The chieftain and all of his council gave you grace. But mischief, it seems, became your calling.”

  Clouds swirled throughout the sky, turning into one angry defined face that echoed Mujungo’s. “I was ten, Uncle Fatuk.”

  “And now you forever will be.” Fatuk waved his hand at the sky, shooing away the cloud boring down upon him. “Leave this nonsense. Learn the ways of the Ritsuki that you sorely missed in your first life. I have been put here to make things right.”

  “He seeks to weaken us,” Alan said. “By Jaeger’s hand.”

  Mujungo boiled. His entire headdress flailed like two sets of colorful piano keys.

  “Surely the frogs must’ve shown you,” Alan pleaded. “Remember yourself, Mujungo.”

  “Yes, boy. Remember the disgrace you brought unto our tribe. The chieftains still howl from the red depths for what you’ve done.”

  “It’s not my fault you stiff tent wobblers couldn’t see color.” Mujungo backflipped. “I won’t apologize for what I am… or… or… succumb to any part of what you once were. I am the god of Strangey Town!” He flexed his puny arms.

  “Then you will remain a disgrace in your former life and the one you waste now.” Fatuk shook his lantern, evoking dark colors.

  With one touch to his chest, Alan’s godly armor summoned around him. He would never show that its weight felt like he was Atlas hauling the world on his shoulders.

  Fatuk grinned, exposing rotting teeth. “Do you think this is the first time an army has pointed its spears my way?” With a rattle of his lantern, he sucked all the life out of the Strangey Town spearmen—syphoning Black Saro like bugs straight into his weapon. All of the soldiers thumped to the ground, causing Neesha to drop to her knees to try and revive them.

  With one look, Alan could tell they were all just unconscious, yet barren of Saro. His poker play was nearly over. Despite being a god, he had no power in him due to the event. It’d be up to Flint and Mujungo to kick out the invader.

  Fatuk swung his lantern toward Flint, who responded promptly with a burst from his staff. An icy shield lingered in the air, absorbing the swarm of Black Saro before dispersing into tiny pieces.

  “We are the rapscallions of this land, ugly uncle,” Flint snarled. “And we’ve defended it against likes worse than you.”

  “You let him starve?” Alan said, pushing the conversation in his favor. “A boy of ten?”

  Fatuk’s paint markings flickered white for an instant. He then shoved his lantern Alan’s way, only for another of Flint’s shields to absorb the swarm.

  “Rgh.” Fatuk grimaced before speaking in tongues. “You do not know the ways of the Ritsuki. Shame is worse than death.”

  “What did Mujungo do that was so shameful?” Alan asked.

  “He harvested butterflies and let them free in the chieftain’s hut. Collected grime off trees and spread it over my salves. The dark spirits live within him. He must be carpeted with the wujinki salves for months to repent.”

  “Sounds to me like he never wanted any part of your rituals and would have rather lived a freer first life. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have taken mine so easily.” Alan stepped forward. “Have you learned nothing in two lifespans, Fatuk? All of your beliefs and decisions… have lasting effects.”

  Fatuk growled, clicking his tongue. “You stand beside your murderer?” He turned to Mujungo. “What spineless company do you keep, little Mujungo? Do you want the chieftains to howl for the rest of their existence?”

  “We stand together, because we know of greater threats to the universe,” Alan said.

  Fatuk hobbled closer to Alan. “There you go again, trying to shift the ways of nature.” He bent shakenly down to one knee and pressed his finger deep into the soil.

  Mujungo stomped his foot. “No, Uncle.”

  Fatuk continued as if the boy-god meant nothing.

  “I said, no.” Mujungo clenched his fist, commanding the soil to grab hold of Fatuk’s hand. “There will be no prayers to the Oonda spirits in my realm. We are free from you.” Roots from the soil slithered up Fatuk’s arm, all the way to his neck. “This is your last warning.”

  Alan got to his knee to be eye level with the witch doctor. “You speak of control and our futile attempts at it, but do you not see your own?”

  Fatuk bared his teeth, trying to resist Mujungo’s roots.

  “Let the boy be… and be gone,” Alan whispered, unsummoning his armor in a show of fearlessness.

  Fatuk struggled to turn his head. His eyelids became sunken from the pulling roots. “You will—never—get this chance again, little Mujungo.”

  “I look forward to it.” Mujungo’s headdress flew in the brewing winds. The island trees’ eyes rolled from the dizzying vortex of their god.

  “Fine,” Fatuk bellowed, then fell backward when the roots released. He got to his feet, savagely eyeing Alan. “But not before I give sight of this abomination.” He shoved his lantern vengefully toward the sky. “Behold the one who you so fear.”

  Everyone rushed to stop him, but a blast of black lightning sent everyone back. As Mujungo’s anger tripled, Fatuk used it, vacuuming his nephew’s storm and reshaping it into a storm cloud face with sharp edges and a wicked smile. Bright blue eyes could almost be thought white, and long hair danced like snakes.

  “Jaeger.” Alan rose to full height. He knew it in his heart it was him. This was one of the many faces from Hyndole’s cloud before Alan crushed him.

  “Witness, greedy god.” Fatuk shoved the lantern even higher. “Witness the abomination of your creation.”

  Alan wasn’t sure who Fatuk was speaking to.

  “A conqueror forces the conquered to hoard what they believe is theirs!” Fatuk yelled.

  “You have failed me, wanderer. Now quiet.” Jaeger blinked, and a flash of dreadful Black Saro patched over Fatuk’s face, causing him to drop the lantern. It didn’t matter—Jaeger was already summoned in his cloudy form, possessing strength even through a Dreamcatcher’s net. He gazed at Mujungo. “How a foolish god like you spawned clairvoyance of this magnitude is beyond me.” He turned to Alan. “And you… you simply refuse to disappear.”

  “Call off the Red Pact, Jaeger, and rethink your plight,” Alan offered rhetorically.

  “It can never be.”

  Alan drew his shimmering double-staff, which blinked black and gold. “You know, when I first got here, I was skeptical of the frogs. Now I think you’d be a fool not to hear them.”

  “Hmm. Hmm. You’ve changed since Hyndole’s reporting of you.” Jaeger looked around to the black crack in the sky that melded Strangey Town to Token. “And I see why. Even the highest of the Pact haven’t been able to accomplish a merger.”

  “Because you evoke the wrong sentiment,” Alan said boldly. “I knew it as a mortal and as a god. You cannot succeed.”

  “The universe will not bend for you, Alan Right.”

  “It already has.” Alan stepped up to the floating head, ignoring Fatuk trying every Saro trick in the book to release himself from Jaeger’s hold. The god was powerful. Dangerously so.

  “When my legions march upon your abomination, Dreamcatchers will hold up their windows so my eyes may witness the glory of the last stand. Let it crumble so a better universe can emerge.”

  “To what end?”

  Jaeger cackled. “To reinvent the vision of a god, of course. The universe confines us to our corners and blinds us from mortal play. We are meant to rule, Alan Right. Surely that’s a notion you can stand behind.”

  “I’ve seen what your message teaches, Jaeger. Time and time again. And I have one thing to say.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I will gladly give my life to defend these people. They are everything to me.”

  “Oh… surely not everything,” Jaeger said.

  Flashes of his father, mother, and sister shot through his mind. Jaeger had more tricks to thwart them. In this brief conversation, all of Alan’s instincts went haywire. He understood the god like he could read another Merchant. He was a master manipulator and used every tool at his disposal to weaken his enemies. One glance at Mujungo spoke an entire volume. The god was angry and unhinged, yet pained to see his uncle writhing.

  Jaeger thought he was getting the better deal by evoking eyes unto the realm, except Alan knew what to look for now…

  “Alan Right, with golden shimmering godly eyes. His own realm at his fingertips, crushing my hand. In my hand’s dying breath, he showed me my greatest fear. I had to see it for myself,” Jaeger said leisurely.

  “You mean one part of your hand.” Alan smirked.

  For the first time, Jaeger’s eyes darted straight to Alan’s.

  “You’ve taught Hyndole well, Jaeger. He’s as cunning as you,” Alan said. “Now I know. You will throw my father of golden light my way. You will threaten my mother and sister on Earth. I know all your plays just by a single meeting. What will you do when nothing works to strip our legs from under us? Will brute force be enough?”

  The cloud grumbled and stormed in place, while Jaeger’s expression remained straight.

  “Whatever your fears of me… I’ll make sure they come true.” Alan clenched his fist, driving a bolt of golden Saro into the vision and dispelling it in an instant. As Jaeger’s face dissipated and Fatuk was hurled into the portal from which he came… Alan collapsed.