My latest project is finally done…

  …Much faster than I’d expected of course. Every crafting task is faster and simple when I don’t have to ask myself to make system changes or actuate another duplicator.

  …

  Which of course removes most of the satisfaction from the task. It really is understandable why the gods all seem so bored.

  Including me.

  “How do you do it?”

  My mentor quirks an eyebrow expectantly without raising his eyes from his own work, waiting for me to continue – not unlike most of our other conversations.

  “I mean,” I continue, “keep doing all of this when you could just speak your ideas into existence?”

  Vulkan lets out a small chuff. “Spellspeech is both incredibly powerful and incredibly limiting in its own ways. Detrimental, even harmful.”

  “Detrimental how?” I ask incredulously.

  “Simple. It negates the journey.”

  “I guess I can see that somewhat… but every time I think of something now, the best method I can think of is to just, talk it into existence.”

  “Then stop optimizing.”

  I blink. “Isn’t that the point of innovation? Optimizing things, using tools to make better tools, using those tools to make better tools yet?”

  “It is not.”

  …

  …

  I should know better by now than to assume the old god will ever expand on a statement without being prompted so I ask, “Then, what is the point?”

  “The point of creation is not the creation itself but the act. Your… other self has long since been fixated on destruction. You are different. Learn. Grow.”

  “You’re not going to say some platitude about light and shadow, are you?” I snark.

  “No.”

  …

  And there’s that silence again… thankfully always comfortable.

  My place of peace.

  I… think I used to craft because it was fun…

  When did I stop?

  When did I get so fixated on the end goal?

  …

  …

  I’m not even sure where to start.

  Maybe the beginning…

  ***

  But regardless of my personal issues, I can’t just ignore my responsibilities. So here I am, in my office, in my chair, at my desk, staring at a pen and a blank pad of paper – none of which I need nor feel attached to.

  Why am I here again? Why am I doing any of this?

  Boredom?

  …

  Yeah, probably that.

  Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing. There’s only so long I can meditate on the meaning of tools and diagrams. Not that it’s much better here.

  How fares the first class, Nula? I project, knowing the head maid and homeroom teacher is going to answer immediately, regardless of what she’s doing.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  And of course, she does. It proceeds according to plan, my queen. Although they are weak, they do demonstrate some modicum of promise given appropriate investment and hardship.

  Ah yes. She’s saying we need to take the time to break them properly, so we can rebuild them as something stronger. I see.

  And I agree. The weak will die, and the strong will rise.

  As it should be.

  …

  From just a glance though, I’m already aware they’ll never pose an actual threat to the status quo. Not like I do. No, the best they’ll ever offer is entertainment, which is exactly their purpose.

  And I, as the demon empress, am their puppet master.

  …

  …

  Come to think of it, I wonder what ever happened with that dipshit ‘hero’ or whatever that kept attacking me… what was his name again?

  …

  I guess it doesn’t matter.

  He married that rusalka and settled down.

  Wait, what?

  My second first wife’s voice suddenly answering startles me, but I suppose it shouldn’t… we share so much more than emotions across our link.

  It definitely doesn’t startle me as much as finding out that single-minded weirdo actually stopped attacking… actually, I’d bet it wasn’t him. The old waterborne gate guard probably reached a point where she wanted a different flavor and gave in. And considering I haven’t been notified in past centuries of breaches via the gate, the ‘hero’ must have settled for that.

  “Well, yes and no.”

  I turn to face Izzy as she steps from a shadow, already sitting to my other side and promptly leaning against me.

  “Mizzy did get bored,” she continues, “so she revealed herself to… um. Dipshit.”

  Ah, so the rusalka’s name is Mizzy then.

  “You don’t have to call him that, you know,” I say as I sense her discomfort.

  My wife sighs back. “That’s his name. You made it his name.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, you did. Anyway, for some reason he just didn’t care. Maybe he’d dedicated so much time fixating on her that it didn’t matter as much as finally reaching her. Imagine her surprise when he proposed on the spot!”

  “I see. So I guess that means… wait, what is she eating now instead then?”

  “She’s still eating him. Rose modified the portal he always entered the obstacle course through so it sends him to their home in the castle town instead, so when he inevitably dies again as a result he can just teleport right back.”

  Huh.

  “Humans are strange,” I muse.

  Izzy sighs and leans into me, mirrored by Livvie on my other side.

  Life is… peaceful.

  …

  …

  Is this really all that mother expects from me?

  ***

  “Why exactly are you here? N-not that…”

  Rosalie’s comment trails off as the horrid miniature gremlin of a ‘healer’ levels a discomforting smile in her direction.

  “Simple. I grew tired of watching from afar and decided it was a good time to witness you first-hand.”

  Oh.

  Oh gods. It’s watching us.

  It’s still watching us, and never stopped.

  I struggle not to let the cold chill that runs through my body show, although I suppose there was no point in trying.

  Especially considering now the thing is looking directly at me, chilling my blood further even through the blindfold. Although… why does it even wear it? We’ve seen the ancient gorgon without it and none of us died or turned to stone…

  And then Ravona scowls uncharacteristically at Frederick. “Your armor is worn to the edge of failure. What, exactly, do you expect it to accomplish if it falls off in the middle of a battle?

  “And replace this as well, fast-release options are everywhere, and you opt for this? Are you stupid?” she scathes, pointing a clawed finger at one of the buckles retaining his breastplate. “What if it catches fire, or takes an acid attack, or worse? Replace it immediately. My mistress isn’t going to simply give you better defensive gear every single time you delve her dungeons. Your planning and preparation are both atrocious! I… I… Ahem.”

  I blink. Did that just happen? The glances I immediately share with my other two party members seems to confirm it…

  Great.

  Just great.

  Ravona is losing her mind… or is it all just an act?

  And then Frederick says, “You… are a smith?”

  “No, you fool!” the healer snaps. “I am an artificer! There is a difference!”

  “So, not a healer then,” Rosalie adds.

  Ravona’s hand traces down her face before she says, “Just… shut up. Look, monsters. Go kill them or something.”

  Well. She’s not wrong. A balanced party of well-equipped skeletons rounds the corner only a moment after she spoke, and action replaces our awkward conversation.

  ***

  An hour and a half later, we come upon those familiar boss room doors, heavy black wood with curling traces of gold and other precious… metals…

  “Did you make this?” I ask on a hunch.

  “Well, of course I… didn’t!” Ravona catches herself. “No, ha, I wouldn’t… oh hells with it. Yes, I did.”

  Without another word, the small gorgonoid casually pushes the door open and strides in.

  …To which the dungeon boss doesn’t seem at all surprised. What does surprise her is when Ravona walks directly up to her and wraps her arms around her, pulling the not-quite-indra down into a kiss and causing her to blush. “Hi there. I said I was going to visit and here I am.”

  “A-are,” the monstrous warrior stammers, “Are you done masquerading for them, then?”

  “Eh, it doesn’t really matter, does it? If it did I’d just take their memories again.”

  I blurt, “Wait, you’ve been taking our memories!? You can do that?”

  “What even are you?” Rosalie asks incredulously.

  “Of course I can. I’m an alter ego of Nemesis. You know, the big scary god on that throne in the hole in the plane?”

  Frederick faints, and I can understand why.

  And suddenly the… god rubs her chin. “Huh… Now that’s an idea, isn’t it?”

  With a wave of her hand, a throne of black glass materials from thin air and she leads the boss over to it and promptly hops on her lap, much to the larger woman’s apparent delight.

  “I love when you do this,” she whispers, and Ravona interlocks their fingers in response. “What’s your idea? You’re not going to destroy more cities or something, are you?”

  The level of jovialness the statement portrays is discomforting to say the least…

  “Simple. I already made Extra Life… Why don’t I just convert this form into a character for it? It’s boring being this overpowered anyway.”

  …

  …

  …

  After a moment of silence I find myself too curious not to ask, “What’s ‘Extra Life’?”