The old woman’s voice rang out in the darkness, steeped in the mirth of old age. It was fleshy and wet, as she had no teeth, bringing a chill to those who heard it. She also spoke slowly, pausing every once in a while to breathe.

  Through the darkness, Jerry could tell she had a few tattoos on her arms, but he couldn’t make them out.

  "Welcome to the land of the dead," she said, smiling.

  "The pleasure’s all ours, Granny," Jerry replied. "Though I have to say, this place doesn’t seem that bad."

  A toothless grin met his comment.

  "Your eyes are closed still, young necromancer." She took some time to wet her lips. "But to open them, you shall be tested."

  "Tested?"

  "Yes… No unworthy feet…” Another pause. "…shall tread the home of our people. The soul of your leader will be proven worthy. Who is it?"

  "Jerry," Marcus replied quickly. Laura and Boney quickly agreed, while Axehand also grunted in affirmation.

  "I don’t—"

  "Let me in, young one," Granny said, and Jerry felt a foreign soul approach his. It felt oddly familiar, like a long-lost sibling. It was small and weak like a candlelight’s final flickers before extinguishing, but at the same time, hosting depths so mysterious and vibrant that Jerry was awed.

  The foreign soul probed at his, knocking on his door, seeking to enter. It couldn’t force its way in—weak as the body that held it—but Jerry obediently opened the gates of his mind wide and surrendered himself.

  There was no hesitation; such a small soul had bared itself before his, and extinguishing it forever would have taken only a thought. If Granny had dared trust him with so much, how could Jerry not do the same? After all, she felt like a pretty good person.

  A chuckle came from Granny’s side at Jerry’s blind trust; and, in the next moment, his world fell apart.

  ***

  Jerry stood on a plain, a carpet of bright grass flowing with the wind. The breeze was pleasant, caressing his skin with a gentle touch, and the crisp creek that snaked through the plain was music to the ears.

  A village was visible in the short distance, with tufts of gray smoke wafting above straw and wooden houses; even soft singing could be heard, drafting over from a slowly rotating watermill beside the creek. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Jerry felt like lying down and enjoying it—which was exactly what he did.

  He couldn’t really remember why he was here, but it was a nice place, so everything should be fine. He lay on the cool grass and placed his hands behind his head, letting the soft blades tickle his back as he inhaled deeply, enjoying the simple fact that he was alive.

  Unfortunately, the serenity was short-lived.

  A tremendous roar shook the earth. Jerry’s eyes snapped open.

  A creature stood on the peak of a faraway mountain, its humanoid body made of stones and standing so tall it dwarfed the mountaintop beneath it. Its feet shone green. The village residents had exited their houses, pointing at the form and shouting in fear, but there was nothing they could do.

  A second roar came. The earth shook grandly, fissures cracking the grass as pieces of land rose and fell. The creek spilled into a dark void, letting fish jump helplessly in its former bank, and the watermill groaned as it collapsed, burying a screaming woman underneath it.

  Jerry barely kept his balance as the earth below him titled, sliding stones and dirt into the dark void below everything; an insatiable, impenetrable pit. He glanced up in worry; what could he do? Nothing. He was simply a normal man, maybe able to wield a hoe better than most, but definitely not qualified to stand up to a godlike being.

  A shrill sound came from high above, like nails scratching glass. Jerry looked up, and his jaw threatened to fall. Any hope of resistance instantly fled his mind, replaced only by despair and hopelessness. In the face of such forces, he was nothing but a speck of dust, completely and utterly helpless.

  In the sky above him stood a second being, an angel radiating bright light and holiness. Its actions were anything but. Under its control, the sunlight had coalesced into hard blades, tearing through the heavens in wide swipes as if hating them. The sky was grated like cheese, strips of blue tumbling to the ground to reveal the endless darkness above.

  The earth shook still, breaking into small islands as more and more of it disappeared into the bottomless pit of darkness below, and even the sky’s strips fell prey to it, sinking into the darkness with sizzling sounds.

  One strip even landed beside Jerry, and it smelled of flowers before sliding into the void.

  The earth was crumbling under Jerry’s feet, and the sky was torn apart, crying out in pain with such ferocity that Jerry’s ears bled and all other sounds vanished for a moment.

  The world was ruined.

  Soon, not much was left. There was darkness above and below, even in the horizon, and the only things remaining were Jerry and half the village. He grabbed his head with both hands as he fell to his knees; such catastrophe was more than he could bear, and the sheer scale of these events challenged his understanding of the world so deeply that it hurt, his sense of identity stripped away just like the sky.

  It was a uniquely torturous feeling, one he almost lost himself in, but something drew his gaze upward again; a pulling sensation deep inside him. A black dragon had arrived from the darkness beyond the sky, and under its command, that darkness spread out. Jerry sensed his soul pulled towards the void, and he struggled to keep it in through sheer willpower.

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  Many villagers didn’t. Jerry saw them collapse as their souls streaked through the sky and into the waiting void. Those who remained were terrified. Even through the crumbling earth and raining sky, under the strain of holding onto their souls, they tried to run. From the darkness under the earth, magma spewed out, large rocks which shook the world both when they launched and landed. Magma flowed where the river used to be, villagers melting in its clutches. A giant crawled out of the depths, its body made of magma, a living volcano.

  Four apocalypses erupted simultaneously, and their harbingers watched: a stone golem, a bright angel, a black dragon, and a magma giant. The village—and Jerry with it—were doomed.

  Until something changed.

  A man appeared ahead of Jerry. A simple person, clad in flowing fabrics and with long dark hair. Jerry couldn’t see the person’s face, but his stance indicated confidence in the face of the Gods. He cracked his knuckles.

  The Gods shouted something as they saw him, but Jerry couldn’t understand their words. The man’s were easier.

  “Prepare for a beating,” he said, laughing rowdily. As that laughter echoed, flowers bloomed on the ruined land, as did courage in the hearts of all who heard it. Jerry believed in that man, wanted to follow him to the end of the world. The beings above might have been Gods, but this was the true king of humankind.

  The man, his face still hidden from Jerry, moved. He grabbed the cracked pieces of land and reconnected them. He tossed the strips of sky back up, where they magically fell into place to hide the darkness, and he blew at the rivers of magma, extinguishing them and turning them into water. Even people’s souls were stabilized as he appeared—Jerry no longer struggled to keep his in place. The pull was minimized.

  The Gods weren’t going to take this lying down. They charged the man. He laughed and turned to face them. Forces clashed which were beyond Jerry’s understanding. The man slapped the magma golem, stared at the black dragon until it retreated, stepped on the golem, and dueled the angel. He pushed them back, but for all his power, they were Gods. The world itself favored them, reigniting their powers, and the man was brought to an impasse, no longer laughing.

  “You were wrong to challenge us!” the stone golem shouted—its voice was vaguely feminine. With a tug of its will, all the remaining villagers besides Jerry were pulled into the sky, their bodies assembled into the shape of an arrow even as the people themselves screamed. The arrow flew at the man.

  A bellow left his lips. Grief. He punched out, smashing the arrow apart, saving himself but destroying the villagers he’d come to rescue. He was no longer laughing—his form exuded anger and righteous hatred.

  The Gods laughed at this. They stopped their assault and turned to leave. The man didn’t try to stop them, but he shouted at their backs: “In the name of humanity, you will perish!” It rang in Jerry’s ears like a prophecy. The Gods paid no heed. They disappeared beyond the horizon.

  The man remained to repair the ruined land. The sky was stitched back together, the cracked earth connected anew. The voids of sky and earth were hidden away. Even the village and the crumbling mountaintops were repaired. The river flowed smoothly, the watermill rotating by itself. The only remnant of this divine battle was the empty village, as, apparently, not even this man could restore taken lives.

  Only after he was done rebuilding did the man turn to Jerry, who simply stood there, forgotten by even himself. Even now, the man’s face was hidden—as if Jerry simply didn’t qualify to see it.

  “You’ve seen my battle,” the man said. “You did not run, which is commendable. But will you stand beside me? Will you attain the power of a God and fight our war? Can you make the decisions I’ve made?”

  Jerry’s heart was trembling. He felt as if dreaming.

  A God… he thought. Me, a God?

  The longer the man stood there, the more his mind returned, allowing him to think.

  To rule the world, to wield might unsurpassable, to make evil bow under my feet… To vaporize mountains and seas as if they were nothing, to have such power that people are sacrificed like ants for the greater good…

  Half were his thoughts, the other weren’t. The man’s frown deepened. "There are many who would sacrifice everything for this opportunity. If you don’t want it, just speak the word."

  Jerry gulped. His mind raced, but then it lightened, and he exhaled the heavy air as he realized the truth.

  He could do without godhood. Maybe the man could have saved those people, or maybe he was forced to sacrifice them as he did, but Jerry didn’t need difficult questions. All he wanted was to lie on the soft grass, smell the wet soil, and have a light heart. He wanted a simple, happy life, to have friends, and to enjoy what the world had to offer. Immortality… He did not need it.

  He would help when needed, but since there were other candidates to becoming Gods, let them. It honestly sounded like a burden. Jerry was content just being himself.

  "You know what?" he said, then smiled. "I think I’ll pass."

  The man’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, the world cracked before Jerry’s eyes, and everything disappeared. He stood in a dark hut, surrounded by friends and an amused soul touching his.

  "Those were some grand images, Granny," he said, opening his eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  “Were they real?”

  “Does it matter? The important thing is that you’ve seen yourself; you are soft, but the world is harsh.”

  "That’s not a problem." Jerry smiled. "The harsher the world, the softer my chair."

  Granny stood in silence, her pitch-black eyes looking over Jerry.

  "Nothing is simple…but everything can be." She paused, for longer than the previous times. Jerry felt her soul shudder; clearly, she was exhausted. "I pray that your heart remains pure, young one. Now go; let me recover, please."

  "Sure thing. See you, Granny."

  Jerry turned to leave, and the others, after pausing for a moment, followed.

  "Jerry?"

  "Master…"

  Grunt.

  Jerry chuckled, ignoring them for now.

  A hanging fur served as the door to Granny’s hut, and Jerry pulled it open to step back into the twilight swamp. Horace was waiting before the hut, a large crowd behind him. The moment he saw Jerry, he smiled widely.

  "Granny has accepted you. That’s wonderful! Let us, the death spirits of the swamp, accept you as our guests!"

  The Trident of Thalassus