Both angels looked at him skeptically before the second one said, “A recount? That’s impossible. The decision has already been made.”

  “Yeah, the decision to screw me over has been made based on bad information, and you know if I was allowed to investigate this one small aspect, then you know your whole case would fall apart,” Lucas said with as much bravado as he could muster.

  It wasn’t just about the point, he realized. It was about the way that the elven Goddess made them accept the terms before she made it. That was definitely the right way to deal with these angels as far as he was concerned. The only people in the whole universe who loved pointless rules as much as Thrzealwick were these guys, as far as he was concerned.

  “We are bound by the w,” Darius said simply, retracting his hand. “If you have a case to make, then make it.”

  “Well, for starters, I shouldn’t be level one, but then Thrzealwick, over here, already knows that don’t you, Thraz,” Lucas said, pointing at the Gnomish God.

  “Why, I haven’t the faintest idea of what you are talking about!” the gnome decred. “I realigned your soul exactly as I promised my dear Lwyn I would.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s like moving the headstones of a cemetery but leaving the bodies behind and decring that you moved the whole thing, isn’t it?” Lucas asked.

  “I’m sure I don’t have the faintest idea of what that’s supposed to mean,” Thrzealwick shot back, crossing his arms and turning away from Lucas.

  “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand either, Mister Sharpe. Perhaps you could try again?” Lwyn suggested.

  “What I’m saying is that he did a half-assed job,” Lucas sighed. “The only reason I’m level one is because your damn talent system thing didn't count any of the potions I actually made! I’ve made hundreds of healing potions and—”

  “And not a single one according to the sacred recipes!” the Alchemical God interrupted.

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter!” Lucas shot back. “You agreed to let me try my chemistry on for size, so all of my chemistry efforts should count, especially since they’re about to drag me back to Earth and wipe my memory clean.”

  Before the Gnomish God could answer, Lwyn asked, “Is this true, Thrzealwick? That hardly seems like a fair way to interpret a boon that you agreed to give. It’s not as if you don’t have all the records of what he’s done. Just run them again and see how his new talent reinterprets his old experiences.”

  “Must I?” Thrzealwick asked wearily, but even as he asked the question and looked at the Elven Goddess' face, he was already surrendering.

  “Fine,” he grumbled, “but processing years' worth of experience in a single instant… It might hurt a bit.”

  Yeah, but only because your bitch ass is going to make sure that it’s painful, as F— Lucas thought, only barely managing to hide his annoyance from the petty God. He never finished the thought because as soon as his life started repying before his eyes, thinking was impossible.

  Instead of thinking he was on a high-speed highlight, real, absorbing years worth of experience from the moment he’d fallen into his grave all the way to now. He was too busy reliving every st moment, both good and bad, to process anything else.

  He relived his apprenticeship to a drunken apothecary and all the shunning that came with residing in a body that everyone rightly believed belonged to a dead man. He was forced to recall his miserable trip to Lordanin and the way he’d been betrayed not once but twice. Then, he was hit by the high-speed hustling of the st year. That happened so fast that he had trouble keeping track, and every near-death experience he had wracked his body with phantom pain.

  Amidst all that noise, though, was a constant, steady toll of chimes as little pop-up boxes fshed and faded away. Every time he made a potion, gathered an herb, or prepared a reagent, another one appeared, and his experience bar slowly filled up. Well, slow was retive.

  Even doing his old boss’s bitch work, he was still level two and halfway to level three by the time the old man kicked the bucket. After he got to the big city, though, and joined up with the Blind, he started cranking out batches of his first real version of Blue, it only sped up.

  By the time he and the boys had the cider house up and running and were cranking out Blue for the Knights and the Nobles and healing potions to bribe the masses, it was moving up continuously. Level three, level four, and level five all passed within a couple of months of each other, and he was right on the verge of level six when the owlbear id him on death's door for half a season.

  His life paused then, and he was forced to deal with his recovery, which wasn’t a picnic either, but it had its bright spots. Once he was back at the house, he was reminded of all the little kindnesses Danaria had done for him in that dark time, which made him surprised he hadn’t fallen in love with her sooner.

  After that, everything else that happened at Bckgate happened in the blink of an eye. Though that period of his life only had a couple of major injuries, he was bombarded with boxes from all the potions he made, techniques he perfected, and books he read. It was like a tiny fireworks show, and when the ride stopped suddenly at the moment of the potion of greater communion, he staggered and almost fell from the sudden bout of vertigo, but Lucas stayed standing.

  “Don’t mind me,” he muttered. “I’ve had a bit too much to think.”

  “Did you get the result you wanted?” the angel asked bndly enough that Lucas was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

  “I did,” Lucas agreed, “And all eight of my levels say you can’t have me yet.” As he spoke, he gave them the middle finger and willed his character sheet into existence. He had no idea if he could do that when he was alive again, but up here, it was a pretty fair bet, and he was unsurprised to see it when it faded into view beside him.

  Name: Lucas Sharpe Css: Magical Chemist Level: 8

  Agility: 13 Endurance: 9 Appearance 7Intelligence: 14 Strength: 11 Soul: 9

  Health: 100% Mana: 100%

  Status Effect: Dead

  Imbued Equipment: None

  You have unspent points. Please use them to increase your ability scores or gain feats/perks.

  Neither of them said or did anything for several seconds as they studied it. Then, after some silent agreement, they turned and they started walking out of Lwyn’s throne room.

  The guards finally rexed then, moving back to their previous spots as if nothing had happened, and Lucas turned around to face the other Gods with a grin a mile wide. “Well, I guess I’ve been living in accordance with my talent for my whole life after all,” he said to the Gnomish God.

  Thrzealwick didn’t respond. If anything, he seemed unhappier than the angels had. He ignored Lucas entirely and turned to face Lwyn. “If that is all, my dy, I will take my leave and return to my boratory. I have done all that you asked.”

  As soon as she nodded, he was already fizzling into smoke, and he waited until the st moment of existence to toss Lucas a sour look. I’m not sure that I like the God of Alchemy being pissed off at me since I am, in fact, an alchemist now, for real, Lucas told himself. Well, a chemist, at least, but I think that’s pretty much an inferior version of the same thing in this Asshole’s Head.

  There was nothing he could do about it, though, and the feeling was pretty mutual. So, instead, he turned to face Lwyn, where he bowed deeply and sincerely. Her smile widened slightly at that.

  “I knew you were a clever one,” she said. “You didn’t even need a hint.”

  “How did you know that—” He started to ask.

  “Because they paid me a visit after you and I had tea,” she interrupted. “They made their intentions very clear, and I decided that they couldn’t have you just yet, so I decided this was the best way to prevent it.”

  “And Thrzealwick was part of the whole setup?” Lucas asked, confused.

  “He had no idea what my aim was, and if he had, he would not have assisted you, or even me, for that matter,” she crified, grinning wickedly. “You saw him. He tried to sabotage you until the st and needed to be shamed to do the right thing.”

  “He did,” Lucas agreed, growing increasingly concerned about the Machiavellian nature of this Goddess. She was not to be fucked with.

  “So then, why did you help me?” he asked, as he slowly put the pieces together. This clearly wasn’t a woman who did things out of the Goodness of her own heart.

  “Because after this, you will be in a position to help me,” she said, a bit too kindly for him to truly believe her.

  “Look, I wasn’t pnning to give the dragon what she wants anyway,” Lucas said, “I was just going to string her along like the Prince wanted and get back to my own business.”

  “Of that, I am well aware. I rummaged around in your soul for a bit before Thrzealwick got here,” she agreed. “And using the Water of Life to ween addicts off your Blue is a fine notion. Really, I find no fault with your pns whatsoever. I am just suggesting that things will not always go according to pn.”

  “Why? Is that some prophecy?” he asked.

  “Oh, heavens no,” she ughed. “It is simply the truth. The best way to ensure that something never happens is to pn for it to and then watch the universe disappoint you.”

  It was a bit of a jaded viewpoint, but Lucas couldn’t say he necessarily disagreed. Before he could formute a response, though, she continued.

  “I’m just saying that there will be a time when your pn falls apart, and when that happens, one of my handmaidens will come to you with a request,” she said, her smile growing colder.

  “But it won’t be a request,” Lucas guessed.

  She nodded at that but didn’t answer directly. Instead, she asked. “I am the Goddess of many things, Mr. Sharpe. Tell me, did you look up what any of those things might be before you put yourself so completely under my power?”

  “I, uhm,” Lucas answered. “Elves, and I don’t know, beauty.”

  “Oh, that’s very sweet,” she purred with a smile that bordered on embarrassment, but he was willing to bet it was as fake as every smile she’d given that Gnomish prick earlier in the day. “But that is one of the Human Goddesses, Nyphara. I am the Goddess of Elves, Nature, Magic, and Intrigue. Fortunately for people like you, I only want to make the world a better pce.”

  Lucas wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but he made a note to do a little more research on her and all the other Gods and Goddesses as soon as he got back to his body.

  “So, what is it I have to do to help you make the world a better pce?” he asked, trying to hide his growing unease.

  “I don’t know yet,” she said. “That’s the fun part. There are a thousand ways that a ship can go off course, and someday, you will help me right it. You have to. You owe me.

  She hesitated just long enough for those words to sink in before she added, "But, if I had to guess, though, I would say that it’s going to be sometime after Skyra finally passes.”

  “She’s going to die?” Lucas asked.

  “She has to,” Lwyn answered, “or eventually the world is doomed.”