Volume 1, Chapter 16: Customer Support Has Abducted Me Again (Patreon)

“Fuck!” I shouted, opening my eyes and finding the alien’s gray face inches from mine. His wrinkled skin triggered an instinctive jolt of fear, while those enormous, unblinking black eyes pushed it straight into outright terror. I thought I was past that, so I was disappointed in myself.

As it turned out, I was sitting in a semicircular chair aboard his ship. The only other piece of furniture in the room was another chair positioned directly across from mine. There was no visible door and no seams in the walls. Nothing loose within reach that could be turned into a tool. Even if I could move, whoever had designed the room hadn’t left me much to work with.

“What am I doing here?” I asked once the blood in my veins had cooled a little. “Did I die?”

“[Amusement, sense of duty] No, you did not die. I brought you here to inform you that your exploits have already caused quite a stir among the people of the Earths. One Earth in particular. As part of the Event, we offer the media of each planet the opportunity to interview participants under controlled conditions.” He moved away from me and sat in the chair opposite mine.

I could not move anything below my neck. Only my head responded the way I wanted it to.

“What the fuck? You want me to talk to journalists? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“[Irritation, sense of duty] That is how it works, Alexander. Whether you want to or not, in a moment you will appear on Earth and speak with the person designated to conduct the interview. Afterward, you will be returned to the exact place from which you were taken.”

“I’m guessing running away isn’t an option, huh? The Daimon’s also the leash you’ve got me on?”

“[Admiration, sense of duty] Correct. There is no point in trying to escape. [Empathy] I suggest using this opportunity to win the viewers’ favor. The more people who choose to follow your struggles specifically, the better it will be for you.” He gestured calmly with his thin arms while his mouth barely moved. I still did not hear him so much as simply understand his thoughts.

“Why is that better? Nobody’s explained that part to me.”

“[Empathy] It is too early for that explanation.”

“Fuck. Okay. Just answer two questions before you send me down to Earth.”

“[Empathy] I have no information regarding Brigid’s current condition. Yes, my name is Molbob, and I was responsible for both you and her. And one piece of advice for you, as a gift from me: the Earth you are about to visit is not the same planet I took you from. It is another iteration of it, so certain details may differ.”

“What?” I asked, surprised by his ability to read my mind, although, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have been. Before I could make sense of the Earth revelation a flash of light appeared. I threw both hands up to shield my face and quickly found myself standing in a television studio, unlike any that I’d ever seen. Two sides of the room were made entirely of transparent walls, opening onto a view of a city where skyscrapers overgrown with vegetation glittered in the sunlight, rising directly out of a lush jungle.

On one of the distant towers, right at the top, I could see a golden disk suspended between two structures that spread outward like horns. Another was decorated with what looked like white gold, worked into designs resembling birds. Elevated roads stretched above the treetops on columns, while some kind of river flowed beneath them.

Farther away stood enormous pyramids coated in white gold. An electric glow radiated from them, and the air around them visibly trembled.

“Get him ready. Quickly,” someone behind me said in a strange language that, once again, I somehow understood despite having absolutely no reason to.

The deep bass of the man’s voice made me tear my eyes—and my hands, which at some point I had apparently pressed against the smooth transparent wall—away from the extraordinary world beyond it. I turned toward him.

He was a head taller than me and nearly as massive as the orc I had literally just finished fighting. His skin was chocolate-brown, his nose curved and prominent. His head was shaved completely bald, and he had no facial hair. His brown eyes did not look particularly interested in accepting objections as he stared at me from the far end of the room, whose remaining walls were perfectly white and decorated with golden hieroglyphs. He wore something resembling an ornate white robe over a pair of white yoga shorts that reached his knees. The robe was asymmetrical, falling to one knee on one side while exposing part of his muscular abdomen on the other.

Every one of his fingers and toes bore a golden ring. Similar but larger rings were stacked one above another around both ankles.

Three women with the same complexion and raven-black hair emerged from behind him and hurried toward me. They wore simpler gray robes that reached their knees. I did not notice any jewelry on them.

They immediately began putting their hands on me and stripping off my clothes. I started batting their hands away and was about to protest more forcefully—possibly by shoving them away too—when I noticed the black iron chains around their ankles. Their faces and arms were covered in bruises.

I stopped resisting and let them strip me completely naked, removing only my underwear myself amidst their mute protests—the same pair I had stolen not long ago from some fucking rich bastard.

Covering my penis modestly with both hands, I allowed them to lead me without a word into a small room tiled with some kind of crystal. They positioned me beneath a disk suspended from the ceiling, then stepped away and approached a white panel on the wall. One of them tapped it several times.

A strange sound immediately came from the oblong device above my head. The vibrations it produced made my body join the bizarre melody, trembling in harmony with the same frequency. I felt better almost instantly and in the walls, polished until they reflected like mirrors, I watched the dirt disappear from my skin. Even the dried blood vanished from my body, peeling off of it in layers and dropping onto the ground below.

“I’m not sure you’re supposed to be doing this,” I told them. “Looks like interference with the rules of the Event,” I said while enjoying the pleasant tingling spreading through my entire body.

“We have permission,” came the voice of the man I had heard earlier. “You must present yourself appropriately during the interrogation.” I hoped that last word was simply an error made by whatever was serving as my translator, but I was not holding my breath.

Either way, I surrendered myself to whatever process they had started, because so far, I felt pretty damn good.

Once my body had been cleansed of every trace of grime, one of the women tapped the panel again, shutting off the device above me. My head turned upward instinctively as I watched the disk slowly stop vibrating and when I lowered my gaze again, the other two women were already beside me.

One began applying some kind of strange, cold gel to my numerous injuries, starting with my foot. I reflexively pulled it back, so she simply caught hold of it and continued the treatment before moving upward and doing the same to my thigh.

The second woman began wrapping the wounds in bandages and I had never felt anything quite as pleasant as the warmth and tingling that spread through me the moment that material touched my skin. I had no idea what they were doing to me, but since I felt better with every passing second, I gave myself over to it completely.

Barely two minutes later, after gel had been applied to the wound on my forehead and it had been bandaged as well, another woman entered the small room.

She also wore shackles around her ankles, and carried folded fabric in her arms. The others approached her, and a moment later they began dressing me in something that felt like silk.

First came underwear that, unlike the pair I had been wearing before, actually fit me properly. It was pleasantly cool against my skin and extended down to my thighs. Next came trousers made from a similar material, though Gray and covered in ornamental designs.

After that, they pulled on something resembling an asymmetrical T-shirt. One side extended down past my thigh, while the opposite sleeve reached my elbow. The side above the longer section left my entire arm exposed. Over all of it went something resembling a sweatshirt, made from a similar but thicker material.

In the reflection on the wall, I could see that it had a hood folded at the back, though they did not pull it over my head.

They did fasten the buttons, which I suspected were magnetic. They snapped together with the oddly satisfying sound of stone clicking against stone. When they stepped away, I instinctively checked for pockets and found there were plenty of them, both in the jacket and the trousers.

Finally, they put shoes on me. They looked like perfectly ordinary sneakers, and I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that, after everything else, they hadn’t come up with anything more interesting for my feet. The entire outfit was done in shades of gray and black.

“Move,” the man in the next room said to someone. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Oh, sorry. Were you talking to me?” I glanced over my shoulder, checking whether someone else had been addressed.

“Yes. I think that’s obvious.”

The women who had been dressing me just a moment ago stood motionless, their eyes lowered to the floor. I liked this less and less with every passing moment, especially since he’d spoken. All this washing and dressing was beginning to feel less like helping me and more like preparing and washing meat before serving it to be eaten.

“I want my lighter.” I addressed the women, but none of them raised their heads. “The hoodie I arrived here in.” I raised my voice. “I need it.”

“Oh, merciful Ra,” the man said, entering the room. “Look what you made me do,” he added, spitting on the floor and tossing my lighter toward me.

As soon as I saw it flying toward me, I reached out, caught it midair, and checked whether it worked. A flick of the wheel produced a flame, so I reached into my soul for Pyrography, illuminating my fingers with Soma. I carefully drew out a single thread of fire before dismissing it a moment later, ending the spell. I only wanted to know whether magic had worked solely on the alien planet or whether it had truly become a part of me.

As soon as I finished the spell, my Daimon alerted me that it had a message. I pulled it up while following the man out of the room.

[Skill branching available.]

“Pay attention, because I’m not going to repeat myself,” the man said without looking back, immediately commanding my attention.

I followed him out of the room where I had arrived and into a brightly lit corridor with pristine white walls and a ceiling that resembled a blue sky.

“In a moment, you’ll sit across from Meritmaat, Overseer of Examinations. In accordance with the agreement we made with the Oruun, you will answer her questions. After that, you’ll be sent back to fight as one of the Chosen. Is that as clear as the sun of Ra?”

“Almost. I don’t really like that overseer’s title,” I replied. “And I have no idea who Oruun is.”

“The Overseer is a holy woman.” His fist struck the wall hard enough to make me flinch. “You will address her with the respect she deserves. The Oruun are visitors who come to Earth. Molbob is the one you’ve been assigned to.”

I didn’t say anything after that because I didn’t think I had anything to gain from the confrontation. Instead, I walked until we reached something that looked like an ancient agora or some other amphitheater built in a circular layout, with rows of concentric seats, all occupied by dark-skinned, richly dressed people, both women and men. They watched my arrival and began whispering among themselves as soon as I appeared.

At the center of the room, built beneath a transparent dome above which stretched the clear blue sky, stood two gilded chairs covered with lion skins, facing each other. The animals’ manes had been arranged to form soft cushions to sit on, while their tails hung down behind the backrests.

The man who had been leading me pointed to one of them, and I sat down without a word. As he walked away, he bowed first to one side of the room, then the other, while I looked at the faces of the people talking among themselves and commenting on my presence.

The other seat, about seven feet away from me, remained empty.

Shimmering steel spheres flew through the open archways framed by evenly spaced columns. They darted through the air, catching the light as they approached, then circled me several times so quickly that I couldn’t tell how many there were. A moment later, as silently as they had appeared, they shot away and settled into new positions at varying heights throughout the hall. Once they stopped, I realized none of them had settled randomly. Every sphere had an unobstructed view of one of the two chairs—some aimed at our faces, others lower, where they could catch our hands. They were undoubtedly cameras, or whatever passed for them here.

Then, without warning, the lights went out, plunging everything into perfect darkness. I was already reaching for my lighter when, just as abruptly as it had vanished, the light returned, accompanied by a roar from the gathered spectators. The noise immediately drew my attention, and I turned to see them on their feet, cheering, applauding, and raising their hands in celebration.

“Welcome, everyone beneath Ra’s light!” A woman’s voice coming from directly in front of me made me turn my head toward the seat that had been empty only moments before.

My jaw dropped slightly when I saw her sitting there across from me.

“You asked for him. Ra delivered!” she announced, raising her voice as she stroked the sleek black cat lounging on her lap.

Dressed in a perfectly fitted turquoise gown with a cutout at the waist and a plunging neckline that did not leave much to the imagination, she immediately caught my attention. She was beautiful, with a slender figure and a long, graceful neck supporting a delicate face framed by full lips and striking blue eyes that stood out against her rich, chocolate-brown skin.

Her short black dreadlocks were adorned with flecks of gold paint, echoed by the gilded lines sweeping across her eyelids and stretching over her high forehead to her hairline. A similar golden line bisected her lips, while tiny golden dots, arranged like perfectly placed freckles, shimmered in the light.

She sat with one long, bare leg crossed over the other, every movement calm, deliberate, and magnetic enough to draw my eyes exactly where she wanted them. Her smile was roguish, carrying the quiet confidence of someone who knew more than anyone else in the hall.

“Alexander,” she said in a breathy voice that sent a shiver down my spine. “To some of our sleepers, a thief. To others, a hero. And to many, the mortal placed beside Sekhmet’s own daughter. So tell us—when did you realize the gods had entrusted her to you?”