Level One God

The three of us crammed into the little hallway outside the personal space entrance. Lyria produced the key and handed it to me.

“Wait,” I said as a thought occurred to me. “Does it matter whose personal space I’m in when I claim my loot?”

“No,” Lyria said.

“Can we use yours, Circa?” I asked. “Mine makes a broom closet look roomy. I’m honestly not sure the three of us would even fit.”

“I’m not certain that would be wise,” Circa said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Dirty underwear on the floor?”

The woman actually looked flustered. She tucked her platinum blonde hair behind her ear and took the key between her fingers. “If you wish to use my room, we can.”

“I’d like to see it,” I said. “Lyria’s just a lowly town guard, and she has a magical, heated bathtub. I’m curious what a fancy Silver has in her room.”

Circa turned the key in the lock. There was the now-familiar sensation of static electricity passing over us. When she opened the door, I saw a palatial room.

The floor was polished stone, and a wall of windows looked out over a view of a waterfall. The waterfall must have been some kind of mirage because any window from the inn should’ve shown crowded shops and houses of Riverwell. There was a full-blown kitchen, a room full of potions and herbs, a room with several wooden training dummies, a huge bedroom with a gold-gilded bed, and even an extensive library.

Lyria was too awed to hide how impressed she was. She turned slowly, jaw hanging open.

“Wow,” I said. “This is amazing.”

The wood-paneled walls were lined with paintings on ornate canvases. I approached one that looked like it depicted Circa with a fluffy white cat in her lap. I grinned. “Is this you?”

She lifted her hand and waved it subtly. The painting flickered and was replaced by a landscape.

“Hey, Brynn,” Lyria said. “Look at this. It looks like…”

Circa waved her hand again, and the painting in front of Lyria flickered.

Before the painting magically flashed to a bland landscape, I saw a glimpse of what looked like me in a full suit of armor to match my helmet. In the painting, my lookalike had a helmet just like mine tucked under one arm and he was wearing an imposing glare, as if he was about to smite somebody.

Was that the family painting she had mentioned? The one she recognized my helmet from?

Lyria was still staring. “That man… can you bring the picture back?”

I met Circa’s eyes and could tell she was desperately trying to tell me not to say anything.

“Do you mind giving us a minute, Lyria?” I asked.

The red-haired guard waved absently. She was staring out the window of Circa’s room, taking in the incredible view—a view I suspected was fabricated by magic.

“You still wish to tell her, I assume?” Circa asked.

“We can magically swear her to secrecy, right?”

“It’s a rare ability called Oathbinding. It’s not granted from a class, but from a unique bond with mana that sometimes forms during the progression from Iron to Silver. There are other such abilities, though none are guaranteed.”

“And you can do this, right? You can… Oathbind her? It’s not going to hurt her, right?”

“It’s painless, but I’ll only do it if the girl agrees,” Circa said, folding her arms. “I don’t make a habit of binding people to oaths against their will. While the skill is very rare, there are strict rules against such abuses of power.”

“Obviously,” I said, mildly offended that she didn’t realize I meant we were going to ask Lyria first. I paused. “What happens if somebody goes against an oath they bind to?”

“They simply cannot, just as you cannot fly, even if you wish. And even if I perish, the oath will persist. At least, unless she reaches Silver rank herself and gains the necessary skill to break the binding.”

“Even if you perish?” I asked. “That’s grim.”

Circa’s face was serious. “The work I do is not safe work. I’ve been pursuing a powerful enemy for some time now, and the confrontation will not be a small task.”

“I thought you were part of an order that was waiting for Seraphel?” I whispered. “Or is this enemy related, somehow?”

“No…” she admitted. “It’s complicated, and I would rather we speak on it later. But if you want me to do this, we should ask the girl.”

“Ask her what?” Lyria said, inching closer to us from the other side of the room.

I explained everything Circa had just told me about Oathbinding, watching Lyria’s expression darken the whole time.

“You want me to agree to let her ‘oathbind’ me? Why?” Lyria asked.

“There’s something I can’t afford to tell you unless I know it won’t get out,” I said. “You would only be swearing an oath not to tell people about me.”

She hesitated. “Is it something bad you’ve done? Something I would want to see you punished for?”

“No,” I said. “Nothing like that.”

Lyria gave a shrug. “Alright, call me curious, then. I can’t imagine thinking about you after tomorrow, let alone caring that I’m bound by an oath not to talk about you to people.”

“You’re certain?” Circa said.

“Go ahead,” Lyria said, sounding nonchalant. She obviously didn’t think what she was going to learn would tempt her to tell anyone.

Quietly, I thought it was a good sign that she hadn’t been a spy to begin with. If she was, she would have looked more eager. Unless…

“There’s no way for somebody else to remove this, right?” I asked.

“No,” Circa said. “The only way the Oathbinding will lift is if she reaches Silver and removes it herself.”

Lyria snorted. “In other words… Never.”

Circa gave a grim nod, taking Lyria’s hands in hers. “Repeat these words after me.”

White light rose from Lyria’s skin like smoke. She glanced at it, slightly concerned, then looked back at Circa.

Circa spoke slowly and clearly, eyes locked on Lyria. “I will never share the secrets about this man to anyone, whether under torture or threat of death. His secrets will die with me.”

Lyria paused a beat, then repeated the words.

The white light brightened and a shimmering glow rippled across her skin. Then a thin line of white magic jumped from Lyria’s chest to Circa’s. The blonde-haired woman released Lyria’s hands and took a step back. “It is done.”

“Just like that?” I asked. “No offense to Lyria, but don’t you think there’s a little room for loopholes in that wording?”

“The wording is largely irrelevant. My intention forms the binding and the words are more for the benefit of the subject of the Oathbinding.”

“So you could have just oathbound me to do anything you wanted?” Lyria asked, face going white.

“Since you are weaker than me, yes,” Circa said plainly. “But I didn’t.”

“Alright,” I said. “Maybe we could start by changing that painting back?” I said.

Circa obeyed, replacing the landscape with the image again. It was me. I walked closer, staring at the depiction with an odd, swirling sense of unreality in my chest.

Lyria came to look as well. The painting was supposed to help her understand the truth, but it was doing strange things to my own brain, too.

This was me. It was Seraphel. I wore a full set of blue metal armor that looked like windows to the night sky. I held an odd segmented weapon in one hand. It looked like a cross between a whip and a sword, but each chunk of metal seemed bound together by a different element. I saw everything from ice to fire and odd, probably magical things like a purple void and something black that was casting off circular motes. There were eight other hazy figures in the painting behind me, but they were all shrouded by a mist seeping out of me.

“Why do…” Lyria was whispering. “Why do you have a painting of Brynn like this? I thought you just met him?”

“Go ahead,” I said.

Circa repeated everything she’d told me back at the adventurer’s guild. At first, Lyria just shook her head and laughed, but Circa had several more paintings and even a few books in her library that eventually were enough to convince her. The precautions we took with the Oathbinding also seemed to drive home the gravity of the secret.

By the time Circa was done explaining, Lyria was sitting on a couch in Circa’s safe room, eyes distant.

“Do you see why we had to do the Oathbinding?” I asked. I hadn’t spoken in a while, figuring it would all probably be much more convincing coming from Circa than me, anyway. “Circa says there are people who would try to kill me if they knew.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Lyria said. “You’re Seraphel. Gods,” she swore, then laughed, looking up at me as if realizing her common curse technically included the guy standing in front of her. “I never really believed in the story of The Nine.”

“What will you do now that you know?” I asked.

Lyria chuckled. “The oath means nothing really changes, right? I have no interest in ratting out somebody who might be a thorn in Ithariel’s side, anyway. I hope it’s true. Ithariel sits in his fancy palace and lets the bureaucracy fail to protect all but the inner circle towns. People die because of his inaction. If another god wants to rise up and take a try at doing a better job, then good. I’ll be cheering them on.”

Circa smiled a little at that, nodding and finally looking like she approved of my decision to tell Lyria. “Seraphel could use more than cheering from the sidelines. He could use an ally to help him through his journey as a Wood.”

“I don’t want to sound insolent,” Lyria said, “but I’m not religious. I believe all this stuff you’re telling me, but as far as I’m concerned, I just need to keep an eye on you. You can do your important destiny crap and then get out of our town before trouble comes and finds you. I’ll even be happy for you if you succeed. But I’ve got my own life and my own problems to deal with here. So as far as I’m concerned, I’m just doing my job by keeping an eye on him like my Captain ordered.”

I had to admit I felt a little let down by her response. Part of me was assuming she’d want to travel with us, wherever that may end up being. If I was being totally honest, I still imagined I could change her mind on that score.

“Very well,” Circa said. “I suggest we get on with claiming your tokens, My Lord.”

I raised a hand. “Can you not call me ‘My Lord’? Where I come from—or where I most recently remember coming from, that would feel super weird and even sarcastic. I can’t get used to that. Just call me Brynn, please. It’s probably good practice for when we’re out in public.”

Circa gave a small nod.

“Just one thing,” Lyria said, raising a finger before I could ask how to claim a token. “Is he even a god anymore? If a Gold went back to Wood rank, we wouldn’t still think of them as a Gold. So why would he still be anything special, now that he is so weak?”

“I can venture a guess if My Lord wills it. If Brynn wills it,” she corrected herself.

“Go ahead,” I said. I had been wondering the same thing Lyria was, after all.

“The mortal ranks are Wood, Iron, Silver, Gold, Diamond, and finally Mythril. By all accounts, nobody has ever been able to identify Ithariel’s rank. The same was written about the rest of The Nine. I believe The Nine found a way to transcend the mortal ranks. If any of the handful of current Mythrils on Eros know a path to that kind of power, they certainly aren’t about to share it. In other words, the gods may be like us for now. But I think they’ll know the secret to pushing beyond the boundaries of mortal ranks. All of them except Seraphel, I suppose.”

“No offense,” I said. “But everybody around here is acting like you’re some force of nature, and you’re only the third rank out of six as a Silver? Well, seven, I guess, if you count this mysterious rank above all the rest. Then again,” I said doubtfully, “I guess there could be any number of ranks above the ones you guys know about.”

Lyria answered this time. “It’s like I told you before. The vast majority of people live and die as Woods. It’s just the way it is. Most sane people never even try to push themselves in combat. Of those that do, it’s more common than not to die before they get anywhere. And most people will go their whole life without ever setting eyes on a Diamond. If Mythrils are out there, I’ve never even met someone who has seen one. And it’s not as if you can craft your way out of Wood. No matter how evolved your crafting corestone becomes, it doesn’t do a thing for your levels.”

Circa dipped her chin in agreement.

“So,” Lyria said, “you say he has potential, but I see a Wood in a robe with a fancy helmet. And if you ask me, the path to Iron is littered with bodies of people who ‘had potential.’”

“Remember who you’re speaking to,” Circa said through her teeth.

“It’s okay, Circa. I don’t know what kind of guy Seraphel was, but I’m just me. I don’t want either of you to treat me like something special. Lyria can call me an idiot if she feels like it.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said quickly.

I nodded. “See? That was fine.”

Circa looked uncomfortable but didn’t argue.

“There are two things I haven’t shared, though. Maybe they’re a small part of what gives me an edge,” I said. Between Circa’s order and the Oathbinding on Lyria, I figured there was no use holding anything else back. I pulled up my tooltip and read off the information about my prestige path and my “divine ability,” which let me delete items, as that poor, unfortunate rock I’d tested it on had learned. Considering the oathbinding meant Lyria was bound to secrecy, I also told them about my helmet and Alchemist’s Kits abilities. For some reason, I held back the information about my secret messenger. I couldn’t say why, but I felt like that was something for me, and me alone.

Circa and Lyria looked awed by all of the information.

“Those items are Gold rank?” she asked. “What rarity?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “My helmet won’t show me when I try to check the potion, and I can’t really try to check the helmet, since I need to wear it to use it.”

“Hmm,” Circa said softly.

“Even a Rare Gold rank item would be worth a fortune,” Lyria said.

“What they’re worth should probably be irrelevant to me,” I said. “I have to assume I gave these specific items to myself for a reason. I doubt it was to sell them.”

“I agree,” Circa said.

Lyria nodded, lips pursed. “I can’t believe the bottle lets you craft potions, just like that. You should need a crafting corestone and a lot of experience to do that. Not to mention an expensive setup with the right tools.”

Circa nodded. “And the things your helmet can do… Resisting poisons and showing you readouts as well as your accomplishments in the field. It’s incredibly powerful.”

“The divine ability seems like a bit of a dud, though. Right?” I asked.

“Hardly,” Circa said. “Seraphel was known as the cursed god, but only because he was rumored to use several very powerful cursed items. Nobody ever understood how he could have been lucky enough to accept so many curses without a single one crippling his progress or power. Now, though. Now it makes sense… He must have been able to delete the cursed items that weren’t worth the tradeoffs, keeping only the ones he could live with.”

“I wonder just how fast those prestige bonuses will let you grow,” Lyria said. “I have to admit, I’m jealous.” She paused, licking her lips. “Oath or not, I… appreciate that you trusted me with this. Nobody has ever bothered to include me in anything important before. My parents were too busy trying to keep me safe. The people in town were too busy worrying about coddling me when they were gone. And now I’ve come here and the biggest job I get is babysitting you. I’m handed scraps and expected to fail. So, yeah. Thank you, Brynn. It means something that you told me this. Even if you did magically force me to keep the secret.”

“We’ll still be watching you closely,” Circa added.

“Way to ruin the moment, Circa,” I said. “And you’re welcome, Lyria. But I’m in danger of exploding from anticipation if I don’t start claiming these loot tokens soon.”

Circa gave a gesture, as if telling me to get the loot party started.

I was happy to oblige.