Under intense scrutiny, some things become vague and indistinct, while others take on a perfect crystal crity.

  - The Human Question, by Gideon de Savia 378 A.C.

  A Power and hunger that knew no bounds burst from me on wings of bck lightning. I had become a willing conduit for eldritch forces far beyond mortal ken. I was rewarded with the savage dispy of an elder god’s wrath. Incandescent light, bright enough to banish the darkness, and the cloying stench of ozone filled the air as my magic consumed the Iron Golem with wanton glee. Even at this distance, I could feel the heat as the air around the giant threatened to burst into fmes.

  For a few moments I was completely hypnotized, the dispy before me an energetic show of one of the most primal powers of the universe. There was a truth to be found here, if only my soul could grasp it. However, the temperature continued to rise and fearing for my own safety, I backed off as several metric tons of iron bonded with the air itself in a release of white-hot energy.

  After what seemed like an eternity, but could have only been minutes, a solemn silence filled the underground temple of the Mother of Monsters. A silence that was only broken by the hiss and crackle of superheated stone. A notification filled my inner vision and, soon after, a sense of accomplishment filled my heart. Rust, oh elusive Rust, you had grown to be more than just a simple curse spell.

  You have completed a Divine Ordeal.

  You have gained 200 experience.

  You have gained 1 Luck.

  Then, of all things, I felt cheated. What of the experience for killing the iron giant? Anger, that dubious and unthinking friend, perched itself upon my shoulder before the logical part of my mind presented an answer that drove it away. Like the Praxis Guard, the Golem had been a construct, a mere thing without life and soul. This all but proved one of my earlier hypotheses on the variable nature of experience. To gain experience, in any meaningful amounts, I needed to have unique experiences. And every life that I took, was by its very nature unique.

  Along with the increase to my Luck attribute, the spell had given me the brief joy of utterly trivializing what should have been an epic struggle. But what truly gave me savage delight was the look of perplexity on Iasis’ face. An expression that I would keep as a private treasure, only to look upon and sample when the fancy took me. Inviote and mine. Mine and mine alone. But too soon did it fade, like the morning mist, to be repced by a stony countenance. The gods of this world were not perfect, they were fwed. Nothing more than children granted power that should have never been theirs.

  “What manner of pyromancer are you? To overcome such a mighty servant of an old creation with such ease?” asked the goddess of me, unable to hide the growing incredulity in her voice, “Only a mortal who grows close to the end of their Ma’at could command such puissant fire, yet I sense that you do not seek the frenzy hidden within the fmes…”

  Indeed, the gods of this world, at least this one, were not omniscient. This was a far cry from their portrayed perfection in my world, as espoused in the books of modern misguided religious practice. And if they were fwed, they were unworthy of reverence and through their fws they could be maniputed. They could be bargained with. It was worth a try.

  “I will answer, if you will first answer a question of my own,” I returned, hoping my voice sounded steady and sure. Iasis arched an eyebrow in mock amusement before nodding her assent with a royal’s authority.

  “What of my companions? Those who were near me when I was attacked by that worm of the desert, are they alive and well?” I realized that, thinking of my companions even now, in the face of such a terrible being, spoke well of my character. Perhaps I truly was the hero of my own story after all.