“You’ve got to give me something to work with.” Detective Alfa’s tired face was serious as she paced in front of the cell’s bars.

  Naymond sat at the end of his cell, back against the cold black wall. Detective Alfa came to a stop, grabbing the cell bars in both hands as she chattered on. “I still don’t get it. Just a few days ago you were making bargains, drawing up contracts in your head and dictating them to me. Precise, without mistake, decisive. But now you clam up. I don’t get it. Is it because I keep returning the contracts?” Her grip on the bars tightened until her knuckles were almost white. Her brows furrowed. “What changed, Nay?”

  Her expression forced a smile from Naymond.

  Alfa turned to the path she had come from, reminding Naymond that they were not alone today. She had come with Nan, one of the detectives who had been under her before her team had been disbanded.

  “Tony,” she said calmly. “Give us some space.”

  [World of Insight] showed Naymond the frown on the man’s face before he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  Tony was the oldest member of the team and on more than one occasion Alfa had deferred to the knowledge born from his experience.

  “Nay.” Alfa returned her attention to him. “What’s changed?”

  Naymond sighed and looked down at the ground beneath him. He was seated on the floor, his unfinished plate of yam, his breakfast, abandoned at the other corner.

  What had changed? Everything.

  “Don’t lock me out now, Nay,” Alfa pressed. “We can get through this. You just have to give me something. The last contract was rejected, but I promise you this, if you take my advice while drawing up a new one—because I know you will—it will be considered. I know what the higher-ups are looking for.”

  Naymond lifted his head and finally looked at her, really looked at her. Detective Alfa was disheveled. It was the only word he could use to describe her. Her makeup wasn’t done, and Naymond couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her with makeup on.

  Three days ago, he reminded himself, the memory that came with the [Sage] class doing its job of almost perfect recall.

  Three days ago she’d come in with makeup that had been rushed and given too little time. Naymond wasn’t the only one in a tight position. What Alfa did not understand, however, was that up until a few days ago, they had both been fighting a losing battle. The only difference between the both of them was that Naymond had known it. So he’d been fighting knowing that he was still going to lose. There was often a type of zeal that comes with fighting even when you knew you were going to lose.

  Now, however, things were different. He was still fighting, just in a different way. There was a part of him that felt a touch of sadness for the detective. A part of him wanted to help her.

  But, alas, she is but an unimportant microcosm not even worthy of the macrocosm.

  At times like these Naymond often wondered. If he went back in time, knowing what he knew now, would he have entered the portal that had brought him here from his world.

  But every time he wondered, the one question that had changed his life would slither back into his mind, reminding him that some things were just that important.

  What would you do to save your world?

  So, now, out of nothing but curiosity, he posed the same question to Alfa. “What would you do to save your world?”

  Alfa blinked. “What?”

  Naymond was silent for a while, then he smiled at her. It had been a stupid question to ask her. Alfa was only capable of saving her city. The world was far too wide for her. Not because she couldn’t fathom its reach but because she didn’t want to.

  For all her dislike for him, Naymond had actually started growing fond of her. To have her level of authority and still be content with doing only what was required of her. Naymond envied it. Envied the ability to only do what was asked of you.

  “We had fun, didn’t we?” he found himself saying with a smile. “It was a nice experience.”

  Alfa chuckled as if she couldn’t help it. “Fun?” She snorted. “You were the bane of my existence. A thorn in my side that I just couldn’t get rid of. In fact, knowing what I know now, I would’ve fought tooth and nail not to have you when they brought you to me.”

  Naymond’s smile grew the more she spoke. He’d always thought of their dynamic as a bit of a toxic one. She tried to keep him in line, and he simply did whatever he wanted to because he could.

  After a while, Alfa’s rant ended and she just stared at Naymond through the bars. Naymoond’s smile twitched a bit, then changed. He gave her his trademark grin. The one he knew always annoyed her.

  Alfa chuckled again. This time it came out softer, and a little more natural. Then she smiled. It was smooth and fond. It fit her face like the perfect glove fits a hand.

  She rested her head against one of the bars as if suddenly tired. “We had fun,” she said, staring down at the floor. “Didn’t we, Mr. Hitchcock?”

  “There she is.” Naymond couldn’t help it. There was just something fun about watching Alfa cave to his shenanigans that always put a smile on his face. It reminded him of how he liked looking for his older sister’s trouble back home. “We had fun, Detective.”

  A certain peace settled between them now. A silence. It was comfortable instead of the usual awkwardness that came whenever there was silence between him and her. But in her defense, a silent [Sage] was usually a scheming [Sage]. Besides, he had given her enough firsthand experiences to know that when he was quiet, he was scheming.

  “Tell me something, Nay,” she said after a moment.

  “I’m listening,” Naymond said. After all, he was always listening.

  “[Sage] to [Enchanter],” she said. “What are our chances of coming out of this alive? The commissioner told me about Melmarc’s father, and I got to see him firsthand.” She sighed. “He’s at the top of the food chain, isn’t he?”

  “The very top.”

  “And when did you find out? Did you always know?”

  Naymon shook his head. “Found out just before we went to get David.”

  “Wait, was that the reason you finally stopped cleaning people’s offices?”

  He shrugged. “The child of a man that powerful can’t spend their entire mentorship without hands on experience. It only made sense that he get to see the real world… under supervision, of course. And who better to supervise than myself.”

  “‘Who better to supervise than myself’,” Alfa echoed in a mocking tone. “A lot of good that did us.”

  “It could be worse,” Naymond pointed out. Alfa gave him a look so he added, “He could’ve died, then we would’ve died for sure.”

  “Are they that powerful?” There was a slight touch of disbelief in Alfa’s voice. She knew the people she now had to deal with were powerful but she didn’t want to believe that she lived in a world with people who operated behind the shadows with that much strength.

  “These people keep your world safe, Alfa.” Naymond tried to give her a reassuring smile even if he knew his words were not. “They keep the worst portals from killing you. So you best believe that they can do anything they want and get away with it.”

  Alfa scratched her head. The action sent her hair into disarray. Running her hand through it, she pushed the chaotic strands from her face. “This isn’t the kind of world I swore to protect.”

  “But it is,” Naymond corrected. “You just did your best to ignore it. The most powerful who use their powers to keep you alive will always be the ones to rule. From the shadows or in the light, it matters not.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  Naymond smiled softly. Even his world had been like that. Those in power ruled. But it wasn’t this bad when it came to the Gifted. Their world was still relatively new, not as drowned in mana as this world was. This world had the Gifted in their culture, in their history.

  “To stop them is to die, Detective.”

  “Then tell me how to survive, Nay,” Alfa pressed. “Tell me how to come out of this alive. There is always a way.”

  “And do you mind groveling?”

  Alfa’s lips pressed into a thin line that was not quite a frown. Anyone who knew her knew that she was not a groveler. Standing proud in the face of adversity was the way Alfa did her things. Naymond doubted she knew that he was aware of the reason she’d resigned from Delving. The world could say what they wanted to say and she could tell them what she wanted to tell them, but the detective had never wanted to stop Delving.

  But she’d found herself in a sticky situation. Her options had been simple, leave the Delving world with her head held high or remain with her head bowed to the ground.

  Detective Firdausi Alfa was a fighter.

  Naymond looked at the woman in front of him. Her hollow eyes, her disheveled appearance. Her shirt wasn’t even tucked in properly. The woman in front of him had been beaten down by her superiors.

  If she leaves the police force because of this, what will be next for her?

  The woman in front of him had become a shadow of herself. At this point, helping her felt like something he owed her. He had played a part in putting her in her current predicament, after all.

  “I don’t know if what I’m about to tell you will help,” he said after a while. He couldn’t vouch for anything, but he was willing to try. If he was being honest, she was an innocent bystander caught up in something heavy all because of him. “But if you follow my instructions to the letter, you just might keep your job.”

  A small twinkle crept into the Detective’s eyes. “What about your job?”

  Naymond waved the question aside as if chasing a fly. “Honestly, I’ve already gotten everything I need out of it. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything else for me in Brooklyn.”

  Alfa was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean fight for your job, Alfa. Fight for your job and just maybe you’ll get to keep it.”

  The detective frowned. Her expression tightened, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. Naymond could almost see the wheels working in her head. The planning, the strategizing. He wondered if she knew how easy she always was for him to read.

  “Then tell me this,” she said with a heavy determination. “Will you be fine? Safe.”

  Naymond smiled. Her concern for him was almost genuine. If she tried hard enough, maybe that bright-eyed woman that had woken up one day to discover that she was a Gifted could come back. Maybe not. Sometimes you just went through things so disastrous that they changed you too deeply.

  Naymond wasn’t even sure if he could call whatever had happened to her character development. What even was character development? The inability to be who you once were because you’ve changed or the ability to be that person but the conscious choice to not be them?

  Regardless of what the answer was, one thing was certain. Naymondeel Art Hitchcock had not experienced character development. The man he was when he left his home world was still the man that he was now.

  His goals had not changed. His desires had not been sidetracked. Saving his world was still his priority.

  So, when he looked at Alfa, it was with the realest smile he could give her. “You may not know this, Detective, but I’ve already been taken care of. I’m safe. Now we have to make sure you’re safe.”

  His words seemed to reassure her because she dropped her worry for him and said, “You said there is a way.”

  “I did.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “First, you must appease the gods.”

  Alfa blanked. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “Me either, I’ve just always wanted to say it.” Naymond smiled. “First, you need to get the kid’s phone. Teenagers should not be left walking around without their mobile device.”

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Alfa slipped her hand into her pocket and brought Melmarc’s phone out. Naymond would be lying if he said that he was not impressed.

  “I’ve been bringing it with me every day,” she said in explanation.

  “That’s neat.”

  “I turn it on every now and again,” she continued. “No calls really. A few messages, though. He gets a few messages every now and again. His therapist messaged a few times, but the messages don’t look like something a therapist would send.”

  Naymond raised a brow at that. “You hacked his phone?”

  “I had to do something.”

  The woman was digging her grave deeper than it already was. “Alright. Whatever happens, take that secret to the grave with you. No one else is to know that you hacked his phone except you, me, and the hacker.”

  Alfa nodded.

  “Who else sent him messages?” he asked.

  “Someone called ‘Conspiracy Theorist’ and someone called ‘Tallest’.” She frowned as she mentioned the names. “What kinds of names are those? Is this how kids these days save contacts?”

  “As interesting a subject as that is,” Naymond said. “It is definitely not important. Just keep the phone on you. Now what do you know about the men that I please. Sorry…” he shook his head and laughed at himself. “What do you know about the buildings that I own.”

  “The legal or illegal ones?” she asked.

  “You’re cute.” Naymond smiled. “But I don’t legally own any legal buildings. So what do you know about them?”

  “I’m aware of three.”

  “I see.” He stroked his jaw in thought. He had started to grow a beard since returning from the portal. He needed to shave. “Well, I own about eight. Get me a pen and paper and I’ll write down an address. Go there and ask for Anji.”

  “Who’s Anji?”

  “The caretaker,” Naymond said. “Nice kid, too. Don’t try to intimidate him. It won’t work. Also, be extra nice since he doesn’t like you.”

  “A random kid I’ve never met doesn’t like me? What did I do to him?”

  “Your last portal that ended up turning into a Chaos Run with a buck load of casualties. Remember that?”

  Alfa’s expression deadened as her eyes drifted into a memory she did not like. “How can I forget.”

  There was a lot of pain there. Naymond could see it. When they’d sent him here, he’d done his investigation on her. Something had gone terribly wrong inside that last portal.

  “Did he know any of the casualties?” she asked, dread in her voice.

  Naymond nodded. “The first building to collapse had his entire family in it. He knows your entire team by name.”

  Alfa looked at him, met his gaze. “Does he want revenge?”

  “Anji’s not that illogical,” Naymond said, dismissing her words. “He knows it wasn’t your fault or your team’s fault. But emotions aren’t very logical things. He doesn’t want revenge, but he just can’t bring himself to forgive you for failing to close the portal. Anyway, meet him and ask him for Melmarc’s stuff.”

  “What do you mean? Didn’t the boy stay in a government sanctioned hotel?”

  “Nope.” Naymond popped the word dramatically. “He stayed at a Naymond sanctioned housing complex.”

  Alfa sighed. It was her trademark sigh for when she was tired of his shenanigans. Naymond couldn’t blame her. Sometimes he got tired of his own shenanigans, too.

  “Anyway,” Naymond said. “When you meet him, tell him that Jabba sends his regards.”

  Alfa cocked her head to the side, a question in her eyes. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Know what?” Naymond feigned innocent ignorance.

  “I might as well,” Alfa said, reluctant. “What is a Jabba?”

  “A world without Star Wars is just so very sad,” Naymond muttered. “Anyway, for this conversation, I am Jabba. But don’t tell him that. He has no idea what Jabba is. Just tell him exactly what I said you should tell him.”

  Alfa nodded. She turned and started heading out when she paused. “Will I survive this?” she asked.

  Naymond had only one answer for her.

  “Beg the boy.”

  The nod Alfa gave to that was slow. But it was also certain. Naymond wasn’t sure if she knew, but Melmarc Lockwood was her only way to redemption now.

  Before long, he was alone again, left to his vices and the voices in his head even if he didn’t actually have voices in his head apart from his own.

  It was time to move on from the Brooklyn police department. He’d been here for a few years but had finally gotten his hands on the things he wanted to get his hands on.

  He pulled up his interface and read the last notification he’d gotten. It put a real smile on his face.

  [Dear Naymondeel Art Hitchcock, your request for sanctuary has been accepted by the August Intruder of this world.]

  [You have retained previous designation Prisoner as granted by the Oath of War of this world.]

  [Congratulations.]

  He’d hoped for the designation of [Guest], but [Prisoner] was also good. It didn’t matter what designation he was given, what mattered was that he could keep working to save his world.

  But, until then, he had a Romanian ring of potential vampires to deal with.

  But first, Naymond turned his head in the general direction of where the offices were. I’ll have to deal with the mole.

  …

  There were a few things that gave Dorthna peace in this little world. One of them was grocery shopping.

  Groceries had never done him wrong. Prices moved every now and then, mostly inflating and never deflating. But such was the way with economies. Dorthna wondered if this world knew how well they got it with the concept of economy. In every world there was inflation. It didn’t matter how long it took or what the product was.

  Inflation was inevitable.

  Almost a few minutes to the house of the Oath of Madness, Dorthna wondered why he still hadn’t approached Melmarc with the new contract. He didn’t necessarily need the contract signed, but there were benefits to signing one for him. On the manipulative side of things, it made them trust him more.

  It was easy to trust someone when you believed they had a stake in the situation.

  So why hadn’t he addressed the topic?

  Because you’re getting soft, he thought to himself. Also, it had been quite a while since he’d trained anybody with any real talent. Also, he’d never trained a [Demon King] before. He’d fought a few, too many years ago…

  Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d never fought a [Demon King]. A [Demon God], on the other hand, had been fun fights.

  Somewhere in the part of his mind that he rarely if not never paid any attention, Dorthna counted his steps as the house came into view.

  From the brief period he’d spent training the children he’d learned their strengths and weaknesses. Funny enough, Melmarc’s major strength was Ark’s major weakness, and Ark’s major strength was Melmarc’s major weakness. Both children had grown up depending on each other so subliminally that they’d grown to compliment each other.

  Ark had better strength control than his brother, Melmarc. Melmarc, however, had more finesse. Their training in ‘Seikuken’ was as slow as Dorthna had anticipated, but he could already predict the results.

  The chances of Ark mastering the skill were so slim that Dorthna had begun to wonder if training him was even worth it at some point. Melmarc, however, was a different case. If he never learnt the skill, then it would be because God had a vendetta against him. And God rarely had a vendetta against anybody but himself.

  A small smile touched Dorthna’s lips as he pitied the fool that would choose to face the two sons of Madness head on.

  Dorthna was still enjoying the easy bliss and myriad of possibilities he’d found himself in with the presence of an [August Intruder] and [Demon King] when the hair on the nape of his neck stood on end.

  He froze, eyes sharpening at the sensation crawling over his skin. He knew what it was, knew the feeling like a man knows the vehicle belonging to his greatest enemy.

  The world blurred around him and it only took Dorthna a moment to realize that he was running. Not away from the harbinger of danger but towards it.

  What has that child done? He cursed under his breath.

  In the space of a heartbeat he was already at the door to the house, ripping it open without bothering to unlock it. The door pulled away from his way, hinges and all and he ignored it. Somewhere in his mind he was aware of the spells he’d cast on the house so many years ago.

  The pack of groceries in his hands landed on one of the chairs with a little too much care as he made his way to the dining table.

  There he saw the cause of his problems, the reason for his panic.

  “What happened?” he barked, his annoyance barely concealed. “What did the both of you do?”

  Ark had Melmarc cradled in his arms as his brother trembled and convulsed. There were tears in his eyes as he looked up at Dorthna.

  “I don’t know.” His voice came out steady despite the tears. “I don’t know what happened. I just wanted to help.” He groaned under the strain of holding Melmarc together. “It’s alright, Mel,” he cooed. “It’s going to be alright.”

  Dorthna’s frown waned a little. His annoyance had diminished but not his panic. The boys hadn’t done anything stupid, they had just made a mistake.

  Dorthna didn’t look directly at Melmarc, not yet. Instead, he watched the vacuum that was gathering to the child. He was suffusing the entire area around him in nothing but the purest mana. And it was not coming from the world, he was generating it himself.

  Now Dorthna’s annoyance was directed towards to stupid Void beast that had thought it was reasonable to speed up the process of making Melmarc an [August Intruder].

  This is what happens when you give a child so much power.

  The natural order of things should’ve been for Melmarc to assimilate with pure mana on his own, grow into becoming the [August Intruder]. But the Void beast had taken that from him. Skipped through the suffering and hard work and all the way to the good part.

  It’s not their fault, Dorthna reminded himself.

  Ark’s groan grew strained. His brother’s thrashing was beginning to overpower him. Dorthna found it mildly surprising.

  As he thrashed, Melmarc’s gaze focused on something in the corner. Dorthna looked in its direction but saw nothing.

  “Is he having a mental episode?” he asked.

  Ark shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s been showing signs of trauma from…” Melmarc broke his hold and Ark had to readjust. “From whatever happened to him at the portal and he didn’t want to talk.”

  “So you made him talk?” Dorthna asked.

  “I didn’t force him or anything,” Ark added horribly, not wanting things to be blamed on his recklessness. “I just watched a few therapist videos online where they showed how to get someone to feel like they were in a safe space and talk about things they wouldn’t talk about.”

  “Then this happened,” Dorthna finished for him.

  Ark looked up at him, imploring. He buckled as he continued to hold Melmarc down.

  “I don’t know what happened,” he said with tears in his eyes. “Please save Mel.”

  Dorthna looked to the corner again. What in the hell was the boy looking at?

  Then the most terrifying thing happened. The mana in the air that occupied that space vanished, leaving behind nothing but the same kind of vacuum Dorthna kept himself sealed in. Then the world distorted around it. A whisper of a shape appeared.

  Dorthna paled.

  There was only one person Dorthna knew of that was capable of what was happening.

  This cannot be happening. This world isn’t ready for him.

  Less importantly, could Melmarc see it?

  Before he could focus properly, the image disappeared and Ark was sent flying. Acting on nothing but reflex, Dorthna stepped to the side allowing Ark pass. The boy flew straight into the wall behind him and dropped to the ground.

  When Dorthna turned his attention to Melmarc, he found the boy standing. His eyes were glazed, as if he was in some kind of a trance.

  “What do we do?” Ark asked.

  He had gotten up at some point and was standing next to Dorthna. Dorthna didn’t take his eyes off Melmarc. The boy heaved, shoulders and chest rising and falling heavily.

  Dorthna cocked his head to the side. This was what happened when your mind was weakened and you experienced an overload of raw mana.

  It was an odd state. Many people called it a Berserk state. Dorthna, however, knew it by an older name. People Melmarc’s age rarely ever fell into it. In fact, Dorthna only knew of three people in his entire lifetime that fell into the state at Melmarc’s age.

  Then again, it took far too many years to gather the level of pure mana Melmarc had rummaging around actively in his body. And some fool had expedited the process, cramming decades of years’ worth of pure mana into the boy.

  Void beasts, selfish creatures. Dorthna almost regretted them.

  Berserkers, people called those who fell into states similar to what Melmarc was experiencing. But they were wrong. A berserker was an imitation of it. It was what people fell into when they were weak and didn’t have any pure mana.

  What stood before him was a different thing entirely. Melmarc’s mind was seeking to protect itself and it had gathered all the help it could get. That help being all the pure mana it could get. Being an [August Intruder], if it fought hard enough, it could get an almost infinite amount of pure mana, which was now creating the vacuum of pure mana around him.

  A berserker was something anyone could deal with. But Melmarc was not a berserker right now. He was something worse. Something older. Eons ago, there had been only one name for what he was becoming.

  A Mad god.

  “You,” Dorthna addressed Ark, “will do nothing. In fact, you will hide. Then, when I am sure you are safe.” Rings of pure mana gathered, forming around Melmarc’s wrist. Dorthna really hoped he would be fast enough. “When you’re safe, I’ll deal with him. Now go, before it’s too late.”

  Ark hesitated, fighting against his inherent instinct to protect his brother. Ultimately, his obedience won and he darted out of the room.

  Melmarc still had his eyes on the spot that was still devoid of mana. Dorthna moved and stood in the same spot, drawing his attention to him.

  “Alright, kiddo,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s see if I can’t put you down in one strike.”

  He really hoped that he could.

  Melmarc gave him no answer, his attention shifting to him. He looked at Dorthna, not like an opponent, but like an obstacle to be taken off the board.

  Dorthna really didn’t like playing second fiddle to the person he feared was coming. But life worked the way it worked.

  “Fair enough,” he said, then prepared to strike the boy down in one blow.

  His interface popped up in front of him.

  [You have activated World skill Eye of the World]

  …

  [You have activated Human skill Perfect Humanity]

  …

  [You have activated Human skill Broken Domain]

  …

  [You have activated skill Mana Amplification]

  …

  [You have activated Human skill Authority of Man]

  …

  [You have activated World skill Mercy of The World]

  …

  [You have activated skill A Father’s Love]

  …

  [You have activated Mythical skill Garden of Eden]

  …

  [You have activated World skill Child of the World]

  Raw mana filled the empty vacuum around Dorthna and he breathed it in. In a real fight, he wouldn’t need all the skills he’d just used. But Melmarc was just a child, some of the skills he’d activated, like [Mercy of The World] and [A Father’s Love] were designed to make sure Melmarc didn’t accidentally die.

  “Alright, kid,” he said, praying to himself that Melmarc wouldn’t die by the time this was over. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Then Melmarc disappeared.

  Unbothered, Dorthna turned to his left and swung. Fist covered in a ball of pure mana, he shattered the air around him with the single swing.

  Let’s see how you handle this.

  In the world beyond this one, where [Creators] molded universes and sought out the space beyond, there were greater threats than people could imagine. Even at the pinnacle of sentient and sapient beings, there were beings that were nothing more than concepts.

  The Endless, some people called them. In other worlds they were called other things. Bantels, to the world of Lycans who worshipped Luna, the Endless that had given them the moon. But the Endless were not really a thing to worry about because they did not interfere in anything. Instead, they had envoys that kept the balance.

  And it took a lot to garner the attention of an envoy. A great lot. However, there was an envoy that even the envoys feared. An envoy that normal people met almost every day and treated however the envoy wished for them to treat him. An envoy Dorthna was not a fan of in the least.

  It was an envoy of one greater even than the Endless.

  And Melmarc had garnered his attention.

  So Dorthna prayed that the single blow cutting through the air would be enough to put Melmarc down. Because the longer the boy stayed as a Mad god, the higher the chances that this world would be thrown into chaos if the envoy came.

  Melmarc appeared right next to Dorthna with a fist of his own flying forward. When their fists met, Dorthna knew one simple truth.

  One blow would not be enough to take Melmarc down. Melmarc staggered away as their fists clashed.

  He looked down at his hand, then back at Dorthna. He had a new look in his eyes. Dorthna was no longer an obstacle, he was a threat.

  Good.

  Maybe they could end the fight quickly.

  Dorthna prepared himself as Melmarc charged him in his soundless rage. If he gave it just enough of his strength to straddle the line between knocking the boy out and killing the boy, they could have a chance.

  The ground cracked beneath Melmarc’s feet as he rushed forward. Dorthna prepared for him with a new skill added to the pile, something with a little extra oomf.

  Dorthna hoped, as he activated the skill, that in the distance, hopefully many worlds away, the Envoy of God was not on his way.

  [You have activated Existential skill Grace of Existence]