“Not dead, you’d think at some point I’ll stop being surprised by that,” Seras said as soon as she opened her eyes.

  “To be fair, you do seem to try your best to change that,” A voice said from besides her.

  Her aura senses told her that there was no one else in this room, which told her all she needed to know about who was in here with her. “You know, the lights in here are just like the washed out hospital lights back on Ruin, the smell’s even pretty close.” She turned her head and looked the God in his eyes.

  Healer’s soft brown eyes met her own, and she felt a sad kindness in them. “There are a nearly infinite number of diseases and injuries, far less ways to cure them, but only a few ways to set up an effective hospital.”

  She laughed, “I didn’t know the Gods could joke.”

  “You haven’t met Revel, or a great myriad of other gods. Even Undeath can tell a good joke once in a while, though the punchline is usually necrophilia.”

  Seras sat up gingerly, expecting any shift to bring her excruciating pain. But there was none, not even a crick in her neck. Nor the ever-present soul pain she had grown used to. She looked on the other side of her bed and saw the collapsed and pale form of Athena next to her.

  “She would not leave, and we would not force her given what she was doing for you. The residue trauma of what you went through was causing periodic seizures, and my priests couldn’t stay here curing the damage. There’s so many to heal, and to little healers to go around.”

  “But she’s passed out, how is it still working?” Seras asked the God.

  The God looked down at Athena and frowned, “I think such restrictions were always self-imposed. She only needs to be awake to reach out, after that the link is formed.” He sighed, “poor child, though she had the racial trait to support it her parents should have seen that she lacked the right temperament to an Adventurer. Their stubbornness has put her on a long and painful path.”

  Seras stared at her friend, she noticed the slight tremble in Athena’s limbs and gritted her teeth. Stupid girl, this was Seras’ burden not hers, she didn’t have to be doing this to herself.

  Seras glanced to her side and saw that her normal arm had been reattached.

  “Your friend helped walk us through the reattachment, and the disciples who witnessed your secret have sworn their confidentiality to me. Though Director Dundee is also now aware and might like to have words with you.”

  Seras clenched her fist, “thank you. But why are you here? I doubt every dumbass who nearly kills themselves gets a personal meeting from a God.”

  “It not as rare as you assume, I appear to many in need of reassurance, though I mostly let my followers take that roll. Its far less intimidating to the patient and helps reaffirm my followers convictions. It is a difficult role to fill in the world, always seeing people at their worst and suffering so.”

  “Are you sure your name isn’t Kindness or Empathy, because typically the doctors of my world are more concerned with shilling the sick and desperate for all they got.”

  He frowned, and Seras felt just a flicker of his divine aura, letting her see his displeasure with such things. “Such things happen here as well, I recently needed to personally intervene with a congregation who had fallen too low. I do not like such things, but I rarely stop them by force either.”

  “Is that not a kind of neglect or dereliction of duty?”

  “It is, but to put my hand down and demand my followers obey would closer in line with Dominion’s practices. My followers are free to choose, and with that freedom those who choose kindness are elevated far above the petty and greedy.”

  Seras frowned, “I don’t know. Freedom sounds nice, but that just leads to people choosing to screw each other over.”

  “It is a contradiction, and far from your original question.”

  “Right, sorry, I tend to wander aimlessly when I speak.” Seras looked down at her lap, “It failed, I really thought it would work, the theory was sound.”

  “Miss Cross, if the answer was that easy then Knowledge would have told you. And if you do not trust in that then trust that I would have.”

  Seras stared at her lap, slowly closing and opening her fist. “It’s the racial trait isn’t it? Biomechanical physiology. It did more than just let me keep my augs, it made these augs my actual body. Is that why I’ve been less able to turn down skin sensitivity and pain receptors?”

  “Yes, when you reborn a separation still existed deep down in your soul. But as time goes by, as your body breaks and remake’s itself, that separation closes.”

  “I need to change the racial trait then, need to force it to evolve in a way that will fix me.” Seras said, each word coming out quicker and quicker as the ideas connected in her mind.

  A hand landed on her shoulder and she was shaken out of her own mind, “I’m sorry, but it’s still not that simple,” Healer said mournfully.

  “But why not, racial traits come from the soul don’t they, I just need to-,”

  “Seras,” the God interjected, his voice and aura filled the room with unquestionable authority. “It is true that Racial traits do adapt to your circumstances, and there are ways to put yourself in a scenario that encourages change, but that does not mean you can choose the shape it takes. Moreover, that will not cure you. The kind of power you need to integrate your soul, body, and magical matrix is the kind only a powerful transcendent being can provide. Even a diamond ranker would lack the right kind of power to help you. I know you rebel at Knowledges statements; you think you can find a solution that does not require a Gods intervention. You think that you know better than the Goddess of Knowledge, and that is arrogance beyond the pale of an Iron ranker’s strength. Knowledge does not lie, nor do I. I let you leave that night hoping you would soon see reason, and instead you nearly ended your own life believing you were cleverer than the Gods.”

  Seras clenched her fists, “it’s not fair,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Has it ever been?”

  Seras closed her eyes and opened them, “I need to think about this. This is something I can never take back.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Healer nodded, not calling out the lie in Seras’ words. “My door will remain open to you. There is much good you could do with my followers, magical healing can fix much, but I still see a place for biomechanical prosthetics in the future of Pallimustus. And if not I then Knowledge would still take you.”

  And then he was gone, not in a flash, not in blink and you miss it moment. It was as if he had never been there at all.

  The moment the God was gone Athena jerked and woke up to see Seras sitting there. “Seras!” she cried.

  “Hey Athena, I guess Healer was doing something to keep you asleep.”

  She was already half out of her chair before Seras’ words seemed to register, “lord Healer was here?”

  “Yup, doing God stuff, checking up on me, calling me stupid and arrogant… being right.”

  Athena shook her head, “you’re far too casual about talking to Gods.”

  “Probably because a part of me still can’t quite believe it. They feel less like Gods and more like really strange powerful people, but maybe that’s just some lingering Atheism.”

  Athena leaned against the bed and bowed her head down so low that her face was nearly buried into the white sheets. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  Seras turned away from the embarrassing sight, “nothing to be sorry for. It was all my stupid idea, thinking I was cleverer than the actual fucking Goddess of Knowledge.”

  “No, not that, I, could have helped, when you were thrashing, but I was too afraid. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Seras looked back to Athena and saw that she had small tears falling from her face. Seras reached out hesitantly to try and reassure Athena, but her hand stopped just short of her shoulder. Seras let her hand fall back down to the bed, “its fine, we all freeze up sometimes. You’re helping now aren’t you?”

  That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Athena burst into full on sobbing and buried her head into Seras’ lap, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it hurts, and this all I can do.”

  Seras froze, unsure of what to do. For the first time since she had first felt the pain Seras realized that it wasn’t just her burden, not really. Even if she was the person suffering directly all the people around her were hurting as well in different ways. Seras remembered the frustrated indignation in Petra’s face when they first found out, Dustin’s quiet concern, even Flint had grown less distant as he saw the pain she was in.

  She hadn’t thought much about it until Athena came around and started taking the pain into herself. It seemed that more than the actual pain she took, the feeling of uselessness hurt Athena the most. Self-loathing, impotence, and sense of helplessness as the world set out to screw you and your loved ones over, those were all feelings Seras knew pretty fucking well.

  Which is how she knew without a doubt there wasn’t a damn thing she could say to make it okay.

  ~~~*~~~

  Seras stared down the expensive amber liquid in her cup before knocking the silver ranked booze.

  Silver ranked alcohol has exceeded poison resistance, condition intoxication has developed.

  She let out a low hiss through her teeth before refilling the glass from the crystal decanter. It was worth the price she paid to finally be able to get drunk.

  The temple had let her go, and Seras had to return to an inn that felt more like a funeral home with its heavy atmosphere. She couldn’t take it. She had slipped out and found her way to the upscale bar Mr. Bannack had once taken her to.

  “I don’t usually like to pry Miss, but I don’t get many patrons who can take silver ranked alcohol at iron rank,” the bartender said pryingly. “Something troubling you?”

  “Heh, troubling, yeah you could say. I’m dying, every step forward brings me pain unimaginable and I’ve only one way out.” Seras kicked back the next glass. Her link to Athena had broken as she left the range of her power, now the soul pain had an almost unstable feel to it. Like one little nudge could have it cascade again, no wonder she kept having seizures on the Healer’s temple.

  She reached out to refill it again but a firm handheld the crystal decanter down, “Miss, if you’re dying then I don’t feel quite right about letting you drink this,” the bartender said.

  “I bought it,” Seras growled.

  “And I’ll refund you,” he shot back.

  She stared down the bartender but didn’t feel a single bit of give in his amber gaze. She hung her head and slumped down. “Whatever.”

  She heard the thick boards of the bar creak as the bar tender moved to the other side of the counter and sat in a stool next to her. “Are you really dying Miss?” he asked.

  Seras didn’t lift her head, “yup, prognosis from Healer himself.”

  “If you met with Healer then is there not a cure?”

  “Yup, divine intervention, no other recourse.” She pushed herself up and looked at the bottle longingly, the bar tender sighed and poured her a finger’s worth of bourbon. This time Seras only sipped at it, her stomach and head already reeling from the two prior glasses. “Tried to fix it myself,” she murmured into her glass, “the attempt nearly killed me and put my friend through a lot of grief.”

  The bartender was silent for a long moment, “is the God’s offer really that unpleasant?” he asked eventually.

  Seras sighed, “maybe not, all I’ve got to do is have the very core of existence changed, devote myself to a higher power, and leave all my friends behind in the process.” She sighed, “it wouldn’t be so bad if I got to still be me, but the Gods gotta scoop out all that to fix me.”

  “That’s, that’s rough,” he said. He tapped a finger pensively against the polished wood of the bar, “I… know a little bit about such decisions. I had to do something that changed what I thought of as integral to myself once, I didn’t like it at first, but now I feel fine about it. More than that I’d consider it a core part of who I am as a person.”

  Seras looked at the man, there was something about this guy that struck her as familiar. What was it? He seemed, was, felt like… oh, right, he was the same bartender that served her and Bannack the first time.

  “Do you? Well I won’t gainsay ya.”

  He scooched his chair a bit closer, “so what comes now?” he asked.

  “Now I decide which God I hitch the rest of my life to, the kind Healer who at least seems sympathetic. Or that manipulative omnipotent bitch.” She waited a beat for some sort of sign of divine displeasure. But nothing happened.

  The bar tender seemed to be waiting apprehensively as well, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I take you have a preference.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the one you think it is. Healer’s nice, kind, and far more patient than I deserve. But I’m no doctor, I’m not that nurturing, I can’t do what he or Athena does. At least with Knowledge I’ll be able to further pursue my inventions. I want to see just what Magitech can do.”

  He pursed his lips, “is there not a third option you’d find more preferable?”

  Seras frowned, “beyond suicide? No, the other Gods haven’t approached me with any offers, I take that as an indication of their intent given the power at their disposal. Though I’m a bit curious what a life devoted to Fertility or Orgy might bring.”

  “I’m told that the orgies get tiresome and perfunctory after a while.” He responded. His tapping fingers slowly grew in tempo before he seemed to come to a decision, then they halted completely. “Can I be completely honest with you Miss Cross?”

  “Shoot.”

  He didn’t even look confused by the turn of phrase, which was strange. “Well you see, there’s been a great deal of deception here. This bar is a fake location, used mostly by the members of our organization. More over I’m not a bartender. I came here in an effort to strike when you were at your lowest point and trick you into something. But I think a more honest approach might be what you need.”

  Seras’ spine tingled and she slowly sat up and looked at the bartender more intently. He was an ordinary looking man, tanned skin, light brown hair, with amber eyes. But there was something too polished about his appearance, his jaw line was smooth and strong, his teeth perfectly straight, and his height and build were classically handsome. “You’re a silver ranker, or gold.” Seras said in alarm, a rifle materializing in her hands.

  The man smirked, “just silver, our resources are limited and the five deserts don’t require more than a silver ranker to handle.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Well, originally, we had hoped to cultivate you as a resource for Magitech. You see we were aware of your first essence. But now I want to offer you something more, a cure. One that will let you remain yourself while fixing all your problems.”

  “Who are you?”

  He stood, “My name is Lord Havre, and I am like you many ways.” As he said it his eyes changed, like a camera shutter opening the amber color was replaced with an artificial glowing red color.

  Seras’ own eyes widened as she realized what had struck her as odd about Havre. It was in the way he moved, in the way he stepped and the floor creaked, it was all like her. For the first time since awakening in that astral space Seras came face to face with a fellow Cyborg.

  A sentient one, not like those metal abominations in the Stellar astral space.

  “Dead Gods,” Seras gasped. “How?”

  He smiled, “how much do you know about the Great Astral beings?”

  “Not… not a lot.”

  “Understandable, most don’t, at least not here on Pallimustus. I’ve been told that in many other universes we are well known and acknowledged. There are many in the great Astral, many relate them to Gods, but Gods are local beings and there are a set on every world with the magic to support them. The Great Astral beings are singular and represent forces in the cosmos far greater than the petty domain of gods. There is the World Phoenix who concerns herself with dimensional integrity, her followers often have a flamboyant and energetic power sets. The Reaper who oversees death and the passage of souls, where to even I don’t know, his followers are often draped in shadow. And then there’s Lord Builder, he is the being responsible for the creation of universes, every reality in the cosmos is his work. This one, yours, and many others. His followers take the aspect of crafting and engineering into themselves. Though we’re very primitive to the designs that were incorporated into your own body we do have a better understanding of integrating magic into our new bodies.”

  “So, so you work for this Lord Builder. what does that have to do with me?”

  He smiled, “Astral beings are powerful and mighty beyond comprehension. But they still need mortal agents. And we are his agents here on Pallimustus, and we have a goal to achieve. We were hoping to use your Magitech crafting powers to enhance ourselves, but now I think you might find you have more in common with us than I first thought.” He waved his hand and doorway made of roiling black oil rose up, “if you join me through this portal I can show you what I mean.”

  Seras stared at it for a long time, “this might be the booze talking, but that almost sounds like a good idea.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial he then handed over to her.

  Potion of purgation; removes all poisons and afflictions.

  “Really?” she said, unamused.

  “To clear your head, I don’t want you regretting any of your decisions and blaming the drink.”

  Seras sighed and gulped it down.

  Condition, intoxication, has been purged.

  She stared at the portal for a long moment before she sighed, “fuck it, shit can’t get any worse for me.” She took one step and passed through the oily black portal.