Richard woke up lying face down on white marble. He seemed to be back the clothes he was wearing in the airport, jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt, with no sign of his armor or weapons. All the injuries the orcs had given him seemed to be gone, and as he moved his arm, even the shoulder he injured falling off the horse seemed to be suddenly unharmed.

I HAVE NEVER SEEN A MORTAL GRANTED SO MUCH POWER WHO PROVED TO BE SO WEAK AND INCOMPETENT. The voice echoed through him again, but it was angry this time, filled with both rage and frustration. Fear ran through Richard as he scrambled to his feet.

He was back in that vast marble room again. There were being (gods?) in the room around him, but again, Richard could only actually focus on the two in front of him; Toran, in his armor, and the being wearing a crown sitting on his marble throne behind him. The other beings he could see moving out of the corner of his eyes but somehow his mind couldn’t quite process what it was seeing when he tried to look at them. Toran stood before him.

“I...I am sorry...I've never ridden a horse before. I guess...I guess I had that “skill”, but I started thinking about it, and I wondered if I was doing it right, and then....” Richard realized he was babbling.

YOU HAVE NEVER RIDDEN A HORSE BEFORE? The voice seemed surprised.

“Not many people in my world do, anymore. Um. I tried to fight the orcs anyway, but the sword was too heavy...”

HOW COULD SOMEONE WITH YOUR DEEDS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS BE SO WEAK AND UNSKILLED?

“Umm. What...what deeds do you mean...specifically...”

WHEN I FOUND YOU IN YOUR OWN WORLD, YOU HAD PERSONALLY SLAIN MORE THAN TEN THOUSAND ORCS, BY YOUR OWN HAND, IN JUST THE LAST DECADE. YOU HAVE SLAIN DRAGONS, YOU HAVE FOUGHT DEMONS, YOU HAVE LEAD ARMIES TO VICTORY. ALL THESE ACCMPLISHMENTS WERE ETCHED INTO YOUR SOUL IN YOUR HOME WORLD, CLEAR TO SEE FOR ANY WHO KNEW HOW TO LOOK. THAT WAS WHY I CHOSE YOU AS MY CHAMPION.

Richard has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I...um...none of that was real. I only did those things in games...”

A silence stretched out. Richard hesitated, but then nervously started speaking again.

“There aren't really orcs in my world, or dragons, or demons, but we play games on computers where we...uh...pretend to be heroes, heroes that have fight things like that...”

The voice spoke again. The hot anger that had been in the voice before had been replaced with something colder and darker. YOU HAVE TRICKED ME, MORTAL. TRICKED ME INTO GIVING YOU POWER THE LIKES THAT FEW MORTALS WILL EVER SEE. I WILL SEND YOU OFF INTO THE HELLS, BUT THAT WILL NOT UNDO THE HARM YOU HAVE DONE TO THIS WORLD. Toran lifted his huge sword.

“Wait, this isn't fair! I didn't trick you! I didn't lie to you! I told you I wasn't the one to do this!”

A voice from came behind Toran, from the god who was sitting on his throne.

THE MORTAL SPEAKS TRUTH, MY SON. HE NEVER LIED TO YOU. AND EVEN WHEN YOU PUT HIM IN THE PATH OF AN ORCISH HORDE WITH A SWORD HE COULDN'T LIFT, HE STOOD AND FOUGHT INSTEAD OF FLEEING FOR HIS LIFE.

The king stood, a soft light shining from his skin and his silver crown and put his hand on Toran's shoulder.

Toran stopped and lowered his sword. YOU ARE RIGHT, FATHER. I AM THE ONE WHO FAILED, THE MORTAL MERELY DID WHAT I ASKED. IT IS NOT THE MORTAL'S FAULT THAT HE IS COMPLETLY WORTHLESS.

Richard flinched at being called “worthless,” but didn't argue the point.

A strange, manic laughter came from behind Richard. “Worthless? How can you call this mortal worthless? That was the funniest thing I have seen in a thousand years. Did you see the looks on the soldiers’ faces when he fell off his horse and into the mud?”

Richard looked behind him and saw a strange man in what looked like a jester's cap and a red and green jester's outfit standing some distance behind him. Unlike all the other beings in this room, the man was short, no more than 5 feet tall, with a round, pudgy face. The man grinned, and suddenly launched himself forward, flipped upside down, did a handspring, and landed back on his feet just behind Richard.

The king stood, anger on his face now. IKAR, MY SON, THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR JOKES. WE HAVE LOST MUCH STRENGTH TODAY, STRENGTH WE CAN NOT SPARE.

Ikar seemed to ignore his father's words. “Toran, if you're done with this mortal, can I have him? I think he could be most entertaining!”

The anger in Toran's voice was plain to hear. BROTHER, IF YOU MOCK ME TODAY, I WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR IT. MANY GOOD MEN HAVE FALLEN TODAY, AND THE DARKNESS HAS GAINED GROUND.

“No one can see the humor in this? Very well.” The jester suddenly changed and looked entirely different a second later. Now he was a tall, thin man, with a narrow face, wearing a long black cloak that covered most of his features. And yet somehow Richard could tell it was still the same man; there was a strange twinkle in the man's eyes. “Father, I request this mortal to be a champion of mine.”

The king hesitated. MY SON, I DO PREFER TO SEE YOU WEARING THIS FACE, BUT I MUST ASK YOU WHY. THIS MORTAL IS NOT THE HERO WE THOUGHT HE WAS.

Ikar spoke in a calm, reasonable voice now, and held up his hand. “We have already spent a vast amount of mana to call him here, from a world much farther away than any we have summoned heroes from in the past. My brother has already withdrawn all those absurd classes and skills, so we have already recovered as much mana as we can from those. And my brother already spent the energy to pull him back to our realm at the brink of death, and heal him, just so he could question him. I don't intend to be as wasteful of power as my brother was, so the mana to make him my champion and send him back into the world will be far less than the mana we have already spent.”

The king sat back down, a more thoughtful look on his face. THAT IS ALL TRUE. BUT WE STILL SHOULD NOT BE CREATING USELESS CHAMPIONS, ESPECIALLY NOT NOW.

“Father, examine his mortal traits. He only seemed useless because Toran tried to use him the wrong way, like trying to use a fine sword as a hammer and then being angry when it breaks. He has potential as one of my heroes, a hero of cunning and wits.”

Toran's face filled with anger again, but he remained quiet.

The King looked at Richard in a different way, and Richard had an unsettling feeling, as if someone was looking through him and into soul. I SEE. THE MORTAL IS INTELLIGENT, FOR ONE OF HIS KIND. AND YOU THINK THAT WILL BE ENOUGH?

Ikar shrugged his shoulders and shifted form again. Now was wearing a long trench-coat over what looked like a gray suit and tie, with a black wide-brimmed hat on his head. He had wider face with a long mustache that came to a curved point at each end. His hair was gray now, and his face looked older. “I think the mortal has potential. Otherworldly heroes often surprise even us, and he might just do that. It is a gamble, but we have already pushed so many of our chips into this pot, I believe it is worth playing this hand out.”

The King nodded slowly. YOU MAY MAKE THE OFFER.

“Richard.” Ikar turned to him, now with a serious look on his face. “Will you be my champion?

Richard hesitated.

“I understand your reluctance, but I fear we cannot afford to send you back home to your own world, not now. If you do not wish to be my champion, I will set you down in a city or village somewhere, and you may try to live a quiet life for as long as the world allows it. But if you do become my champion, you may be able to do more.”

“Will I...will I be able to help people?” Richard asked.

“I hope you will. I will not demand you do anything against your moral code, if that is what you fear.”

It seemed like a really bad idea, but saying no seemed like an even worse one. “Then...yes. I accept.”

Ikar turned back to the king and made a slight bow. “Alfodr, father, I request your leave, so I may briefly instruct Richard before sending him to the mortal plane.'

The king nodded his head slightly. Ikar reached out his hand to Richard, and Richard took it.

The marble vanished around them, as they were suddenly elsewhere.

Richard and Ikar were standing in a much more modest room. It looked like a study, with wooden floors, a large bookcase on one wall, and several heavy wooden chairs around a table.

Ikar sat down in one of the chairs. “Please, Richard, sit. I'm sure you have many questions.”

Richard sat down. The chair seemed to me made of solid oak and felt heavily reinforced and solid; Richard wondered if it was built specifically to hold the full weight of someone like Toran. “Are...are you actually a god?”

Ikar laughed, and then stood up and took a bow as if he was on stage. “I knew you would be entertaining! Yes, I am. I am known as Ikar the Many-Faced. I am the god of those who challenge the strong and the powerful with their wits, those who mock the proud with laughter, the gamblers, the wise fools and the geniuses who cross into madness. You have met my father, Alfodr, the king of the gods, and Toran the True, the god of honor, glory, and heroism.”

Richard nodded, thoughtful. Of course, a trickster god.

Ikar responded to the thought as if Richard had spoken out loud. “Is that what people would call me on your world?”

“Yes, many pantheons of gods in Earth's mythology have some kind of trickster god, a god who breaks the rules and outwits others...” Richard cut short when he remembered who he was talking to. “Um. Sorry. How should I be addressing you? Should I be on my knees or something? I was never good with the whole....religion...thing...”

Ikar laughed again, and slapped Richard on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “A trickster god, huh? Yes, I like that. And no, you don't have to grovel before me; some gods enjoy that kind of thing, but I find it boring, and I can't stand things that are boring. Just address me as Ikar”.

“Thank you. Um. Ikar. Ok, yes, I have a lot of questions.” What do I most need to know. “What was going on with those “skills” and “classes” messages I keep getting?” Richard had a pretty good guess for how those worked, but he would rather hear it directly.

Ikar nodded. “As I suspected, your world didn't have Classes and Skills. A very long time ago, in our world and many other worlds like it, the First Gods needed to find a way to give mortal beings the power to fight back against monsters and worse, who were spreading across the world. They learned how to grant a single mortal power, as a champion, but that wasn't enough to turn back the tide. And a mortal suddenly granted power usually does not know how to use it properly or well, a lesson my brother seems to have forgotten. So finally, they took all the power they had and created a System, where mortals could earn the power they needed to survive. The System was designed to encourage and reward mortals who would train and learn, to build, to fight, to grow food and forge weapons and do useful tasks, and to take care of and defend themselves. When they spent the time and effort to be good at one of those things they were awarded Skills, which made them even better at something they were already training at.” Ikar looked at Richard and laughed. “That way they would already have some idea how to ride a horse before suddenly being granted a Skill at it.”

“When a mortal had developed several Skills, they could earn a Class, which would make them stronger and better at it. They could Level Up their classes and improve themselves farther. They could complete Quests to prove their worth. And when a mortal completed worthy deeds, they could be granted Achievements, which could help them in other ways.”

“The First Gods put every bit of mana and energy they had into this System. Or maybe they became the System. Either way, once their System was completed, the First Gods were no more. The gods in the world now all appeared or arrived later, and none of us have the power of the First Gods. But their sacrifice worked, it allowed mortals to become strong and skilled enough to survive and thrive.”

“Ok, that all...sort of makes sense. What did Toran mean by a spreading darkness?”

Ikar shifted again. He suddenly was younger again, and changed back into the tall, lanky form in the black cloak.

“My brother was right about that. Many worlds near this one have fallen to darkness, of one kind of another. They are now worlds where everything is dead, or worlds where only horrors remain, or worlds where demons torture mortal souls, or that have suffered other terrible fates. Such things tend to spread from one world to the next; magical energy tends to seep through from one world to other worlds that are nearby, and some powerful beings can pass between worlds, so as the worlds around ours become darker, more and more darkness tends to leak through into our world. We have helped the mortals of this world hold the line against the darkness so far, but it is not clear we will be able to do so forever.” He paused. “That was why my brother summoned you from a world so very many universes away, so different from ours. This is not the first time one of us has summoned an otherworldly hero to be a champion, but this is the first time one of us has reached so far, just because so many worlds near ours are now too dark or corrupted. I would not have had the power to reach as far as your world; my brother has far more followers than I do. Although much of the faith in him has been lost today, which is part of the reason he is so angry with you.”

“So...ok. So, I'm supposed to save the world?”

Ikar laughed again; in this form, his laughter was more of a high-pitched cackle instead of the deep boom it had been in his older form or the manic laughter of his jester form. “I like you, Champion. But no, I don't expect you to save the world today; I am not as big a fool as my brother, and I wouldn't be able to just give you power like he did even if I thought it was wise. I do think you do have a massive amount of potential in this world but figuring out how to use it is up to you, and in any case will take much time. To be honest, I don't know what you'll be able to do, if anything, but there's a chance you might make a difference. If nothing else you're a wild card in the deck, and more wild cards are good when the odds are already against you.”

“For now, try to learn as much as you can, and try not to die.”

You have been given, by Divine Favor, the Divine Class [Champion (1)]

Quest received- Try Not To Die. To succeed at this quest, merely live through your first two weeks in the world without getting killed. Shouldn't be too hard...right?

“Good luck, Champion. I wish we had more time to talk, but it looks like you are being summoned.”

Richard saw a strange yellow light coming from under him. The wooden floor he was sitting on seemed to ripple and shimmer in a spiral pattern. Before he could move, Richard and the chair he was sitting on fell through the portal that opened where the floor had been.