I look like a train-wreck.

That was the first thought that flitted through Lukas’s mind as he stared at his reflection in the shining waters of the pond. His messy black hair had grown into thick bangs, hiding most of his gaunt face. His face had always been angular with sharp features, but it seemed his recent level-ups had elongated it even further, making his cheeks look sucked in. His stubble hadn’t grown very much, but it was beginning to feel as sharp as the edge of a business card.

Between all that, his pale skin, and bloodshot eyes, he looked burnt up. Wasted. At death’s door.

Lukas sighed, as the irony finally hit him.

Great. Now I really look like a vampire.

“What’s a vampire?”

“A creature that sucks blood.”

“You mean a bat?”

“Like a bat, only human. Well, actually it’s dead, and can turn into a bat… I think.” He rubbed circles on his temples. Thinking hurt, and he was done feeling pain. Then again, it was all he felt nowadays.

“I— I don’t know. Never really got around to reading that Dracula book.”

“A dead human that turns into a bat? Sounds like an oxymoron.” She hummed for a moment. “Oxymoron. What a curious term. We didn’t have such peculiar terms in Akkad.”

“It’s nice to see the modern tongue appreciated by a goddess,” Lukas wryly grinned. “Also, why’s that an oxymoron?”

“Those of the dead belong within the Underworld. It is not their place to cross the veil and enter the mortal plane.”

Is that so? Lukas mused. The texts he’d once gone through about the Sumerian Underworld referenced certain creatures called etemmu, which could be classified in the same vein as ghosts— not the Ramsay brothers kind, but those that spread diseases and misfortune. Convenient superstitions to fall back on in an age without modern medicine and knowledge.

But that was then, and this was now. If he only went by his research, then gods and goddesses shouldn’t exist either. Yet here he was, conversing with one in his head. Filing the information away for later, he reached for the cool water before him.

Calculating the passage of time inside an anomaly was difficult on the best of days— it wasn’t as if sleep cycles were all about precision. Still, he wagered it’d been two, maybe three, days since the incident with the azolg and the enlightening discussion that ensued with his resident goddess.

A lot had changed ever since he’d gained an intimate understanding of the world around him. He learned the truth about worlds, about realms and systems, about how everything he had once known was merely a small puzzle piece that was lost in the grandeur of something infinitely larger in scale.

And then, in an utterly suicidal move, he challenged Inanna into altering their bargain to make it more straightforward and favorable for him. Frankly, why she hadn’t just smited him on the spot was anybody’s guess.

“Because that would spoil the fun, mortal.”

Right. He nearly forgot. Welcome to the craziest shit on alien television. The tragic life of Lukas Aguilar.

“I have front row seats for it too.”

Lukas yawned. He was way too tired to deal with her quips. For one, Inanna would always have the last word. But also, she was his only source of information in this strange world of monsters. To be ignorant of the dangers was practically the worst situation possible for a lawyer.

No matter how much he tried to outwit her, there was always some titbit. Some fine print. Some mind-boggling information that would always turn the tide in her favor.

“And now, you’re whining like a… how do you mortals say it? A bitch?”

It didn’t help that she picked up on human colloquialisms at an incredible pace. Something eerily aided by her unrestricted access to his mind, something she wasn’t exactly subtle about taking advantage of.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Anything coming from me is rich, mortal. I am, after all, a Queen.”

He rolled his eyes. It was better than yelling. He’d tried it once. It was injurious to his health.

He yawned again.

“I think another dose may prove necessary.”

Lukas shook his head, slapping his face over and over. It was difficult getting to concentrate. After a couple of attempts, he managed to clench his fingers into a fist and focused on the feel of lifeforce flooding his body.

The tiredness abated. Just a little.

Maybe enough for another hour.

Two, if he was lucky.

And therein lay the problem.

He couldn’t fucking sleep.

At all.

Every time he closed his eyes, he was hounded by what he’d witnessed through the eyes of the pendant, so to speak. Those horrifying images of the dead and dying, the disasters and carnage and the vile stench of deathdecaybloodfleshdeathdecaybloodcarnagedeath—

He shook his head. Even thinking about it took him back to the nightmare.

And it happened every time he tried to fall asleep. He’d trained himself ragged for as long as possible, until every bone of his body screamed for rest, until every muscle felt like a giant bruise. Lukas went on and on and on, all in the hopes that when he closed his eyes, he’d skip the nightmarish visions and become fully unconscious.

As it turned out, that was too much to ask.

Possibly the worst part of all this was the fact that Inanna had nothing to do with this. Hell, she actively discouraged it, and he had been the one stupid enough to ignore her warnings and force her to show it to him.

Lukas felt her smile in his mind.

“You’re really enjoying my suffering aren’t you,” he cursed.

“You give yourself too much credit, mortal. Anyone’s suffering brings me joy. But it is a real treat to see people suffer when they don’t listen to me. And the best part?” Her tone grew even more mocking. “You did it all to yourself. Without any help.”

“Glad to see I’m keeping you entertained.”

Gathering some water into his palms, Lukas splashed his face. The feeling of fresh, cool, groundwater was like a soothing balm, one that would keep him fresh temporarily. A bath sounded really nice too, but this particular pond was infested with Orcish weed— an underwater carnivorous plant, according to the screen.

Maybe next time. I guess I’ll just—

Prey, found you.

Almost automatically, his right hand reached out and grabbed the one-horned creature that leaped at him from his blind spot. The old Lukas would’ve probably been caught off-guard and been tragically gutted in a most brutal fashion.

But now? It wasn’t even worth his attention.

I guess this is what they call experience.

“Beating your own drum, are you?”

“Nope,” Lukas popped the ‘p’. “Just creating my own silver lining. The clouds were too lazy to give me one.”

“I’m curious how this silver lining helps you out of your mess.”

“You mean our mess.”

“No, yours. You caused it. Despite my repeated warnings.”

Lukas didn’t bother arguing. He was just too tired. With practiced efficiency, his fingers tightened around the monster’s neck, his middle finger and thumb crushing its vocal cords, causing the creature to screech horribly. Grinning slightly, Lukas turned to glance at the creature for the first time.

Analyze [Level 1]

Fellfen — Chimeric hybrid with amphibian features. It has bioluminescent skin.

His earlier deduction had been spot-on. Even though it looked like an AI program with minimal features and an information system that made no sense, the screen wasn’t a limited application. No, it was evolving. Kind of like those online advertisements that were tailored to your browsing history, the screen studied him and began to customize itself enough to predict his reactions in similar situations.

With a twist of his fingers and a pinch of lifeforce, he sent the fellfen into an aerial somersault, tossing away towards the other side of the pond. Falling free, the creature squeaked and sprinted away into the darkness of the dungeon caves.

“You could have ended its life,” the goddess noted.

Lukas shrugged.

“Every single creature in here is trying to attack you, the invader. Sparing them won’t aid your escape, or ensure your survival.”

“No, it won’t,” Lukas sneered, raising his voice. “But you know what can? You. If you actually got down from that high horse and gave me something useful to work with instead of mocking me over my mistakes, maybe I’ll have a better chance at surviving in this place.”

Inanna said nothing.

Note to self, never speak when angry. It never helps.

His tenant was a Goddess, an entity so far above humanity that he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Decades were like minutes to her, yet Fate had her working alongside him, acting like they were the best of chums.

It was sort of like having a sabertooth tiger prowling around you, pretending to be a fluffy little kitten. Mewling and acting all cute, but one moment of inattention and you’d be a goner.

“Hey,” he lowered his tone to a respectable level, “why don’t you just… you know, tell me about Sumer? The world outside of here is supposed to be your sister’s empire, right? I need to understand the situation if I want to survive out there.”

“Knowing about Sumer won’t help your present situation, mortal. And you’ve chosen to reject what can. You must find worthwhile solutions to remedy your malediction.”

“And how exactly do I do that?” Lukas snarled. “It’s not like—”

He cut himself off, realizing he was on the verge of another explosion.

Pause.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And now again.

Lifeforce was intimately connected to the primal nature of living beings. It activated the desires of the subconscious mind— hunger, rage, lust, and the like. The more you used it, the more difficult it became to keep a lid on your emotions.

And Lukas was, funnily enough, on a lifeforce-high.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Rinse and repeat.

His grandfather once taught him a simple technique— zen meditation. The old pagan was nuttier than a fruitcake by the end of it, but he knew a lot about breathing and other mental exercises. There was this thing called Pranayama, one of those Indian yogic postures that helped your emotions and promoted healthy living.

Asanas, his old man once called it.

He had never tried them out, but the normal breathing techniques had become part and parcel in his life, especially in the present environment. He faintly remembered reading about deep breathing being a possible meditation technique to combat psychological trauma and anxiety, but—

“You tried to perceive something not meant for mortal minds. Paltry measures will not undo that.”

“What else is new?”

“Do not give me lip, mortal,” the goddess retorted, her voice dripping with condescension. “What you are facing is the bare beginnings of a spiraling downfall. Why suffer when I can solve the problem with a snap of my fingers?”

“If I accept your offer.”

“Precisely.”

“Or,” Lukas felt oddly pleased for some reason, “I could use our bargain to make your spill the information that’ll fix me.”

“I’m fully willing to grant you information, mortal. After all, you are my castellan. It is in my best interest to keep you alive.”

Her words sounded reassuring on the surface. And yet, an icy fear began to spread across his chest.

“I assure you. No matter how much you suffer and cry for escape, I will stay your hand. Keep you alive.”

And there it was. She somehow managed to make keeping him alive seem frightening. Was he becoming some kind of seer now?

He couldn’t help it. He gulped.

“Goo— good to know we have that on record.”

“That we do, mortal. We most certainly do.”

Being attached to a mind filled with lawyer-related stuff was clearly a bad influence on her.

Suddenly, Lukas froze.

“What if I modify my mind?” It was an idea that just suddenly occurred to him. A rare thing nowadays. “Augment my brain to deal with all of this...” he waved his hands, “trauma stuff?”

“Your trauma is not normal,” Inanna pointed out, “and lifeforce can only improve upon the original. Not add new things to it.”

“True,” Lukas retorted, “but my brain can.”

It had been from a case he’d studied back in the university, about a patient suffering from sleepwalking that had gotten caught up in a murder trial. The lawyer he was apprenticed to had made him go through the different stages of sleep and their effects on the nervous system.

It was why he knew he could rely on breathing techniques to counter his sudden insomnia.

“What do you mean?”

Lukas blinked. Had the goddess really claimed ignorance? Or was he missing something here?

“I’m the goddess of murder, lust, and war. Not a private nurse.”

The image of Inanna in a nurse’s uniform conjured up all sorts of wrong ideas in his mind.

He coughed.

“If you’re done exercising your deep-seated fantasy about me clad in a nurse’s garb, perhaps you can enlighten me about your idea? I have to say, I’m rather intrigued by what a mortal can come up with.”

Lukas ignored the jab at his mortality. “Humans started using written words only five thousand years ago, which means the human brain— which had evolved over the course of several million years prior to that —didn’t have the necessary structures to support reading. But when humans started reading and writing, their brains developed in response to the environmental pressures, adapting to allow the understanding of the written words. It’s called plasticity, morphing of the mind to add new processes.”

“Interesting,” the goddess replied, her tone thoughtful. “Continue.”

“So if I were to apply lifeforce…”

“You believe you can push your brain to comprehend this?”

“After a fashion, yes.”

The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. For better or worse, his mind was stuck with the alien information from the pendant. It was like making a very complex application run on a computer. Running applications beyond one’s ability to process would cause the system to hang, which was akin to his lack of sleep and repeated trauma. But if he were to increase the system’s capacity…

“It troubles me to think that mortals have become so overwhelmingly dependent upon tools instead of their mind and body,” Inanna muttered in distaste.

Lukas ignored her. “The other outcome would be that this program is incompatible, in which case the entire plasticity aspect comes into play.”

“Theoretically,” the goddess corrected, blinking. “My, what an expressive vocabulary I have now! High Kingdom Akkadian was so restrictive.”

“But it could work, right?” Lukas demanded.

“You would willingly choose to suffer through this on the slightest chance of success?”

Lukas had a shark-like grin on his face. “I like to live dangerously.”

“Over my own offer?”

“Remind me again, what was your offer?”

Inanna looked oddly pleased. “Embrace my will as your own and worship me as your goddess. Be my vessel in peace, my weapon in war. Fill that void of skepticism you hold so dear with faith in my providence.”

“And that’ll solve all my problems?” Lukas snapped his fingers. “Just like that?”

“Why, of course.” Her smile widened. “You tried to comprehend the perception of a Goddess, through a powerful relic no less. Should you become my worshipper, your perception shall be elevated. What paltry trauma can touch you then?”

It made a frightening amount of sense. The laws and limits of biology and physics only applied to mortals like him. As far as Inanna was concerned, the rules of reality bent backwards to please her if the earlier demonstration against the khorkhoi had been of any clue.

There was no doubt Inanna would grant it all to him, should he choose to take up her offer.

She had never lied to him before.

And she had no reason to start now.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted that power. He desired it, craved it, maybe even more so than getting back to his old life. And that, above all else, what was what terrified him.

He had experienced Inanna’s power for no more than a few fleeting moments, and couldn’t stop thinking about it. But getting back to the human world would mean losing everything he’d earned here, even assuming he could actually find a way back in the first place. Earth had no proper omphalos. No schema for him to grow, no skills to develop.

Just his own life. His regular, human, life.

Not… he gazed at his hands, blazing with lifeforce… Not this.

He knew it.

And it scared the crap out of him.

It was the tragedy of the human condition. Nobody wanted to become the bad guy. Nobody intended to start traveling down the path of evil. Sure, calling Inanna evil was a gross exaggeration— her set of values were just alien to him, just like his own were alien to her. The question now was, would he be willing to lay down whatever values he had inculcated over a lifetime— everything made him Lukas Aguilar —in pursuit of such power?

Already, he’d killed monsters with his bare hands. His hands weren’t even quivering when they held the fellfen’s life. Just a tiny snap, a tiny lifeforce-augmented twitch of his fingers, and a life would have been lost.

Just another prey.

How soon before said prey was a human being? How long before he started abusing his powers?

How long before he became a monster himself?

He who fights monsters should be careful, lest he himself becomes one.

He knew the quote. But knowing something and experiencing it were two very different things.

Just in time when he was in his weakest, Inanna expertly dug in.

“The powers you long coveted for will be yours for the taking.” Her words tasted like nectar. “Those nightmares that plague your sleep will be erased. Those perceptions that you cannot comprehend will become clear as day.”

And then her voice went down to an eerie whisper.

“All you have to do… is say ‘yes’.”

“I already told you,” Lukas growled, his hands trembling. “I’m not interested.”

“But things have changed, mortal, have they not?” Inanna purred. “You will face creatures who are hilariously above your power to defeat.”

“You vowed to help me survive.”

“Through sharing information, perhaps, but not strength. I shall willingly impart you the knowledge to gain strength. But at what cost? You have seen what that puny creature did to your shoulder. What will be next? Your leg? Your spine? Perhaps your skull?”

Lukas gritted his teeth. This was slowly approaching uncomfortable territory. “But if I die—”

“Then I am trapped inside the pendant, true. But the Goddess Inanna is nothing, if not patient. I have waited aeons in my desire for freedom. I can wait until the stars grow cold and the universe withers to dust. Your mortal life, however, does not possess such a luxury.”

She was obviously baiting him, and judging by how agitated he was feeling, it was working. Lukas could almost see himself accepting her offer. After all, free will and morality were a moot point if he was dead.

Lukas vehemently shook his head again. “No. And this time, no means no.”

Inanna stared at him, inspecting him like he was a mere insect. Finally, she snorted. “How utterly disappointing.”

“Get used to it. I won’t kneel in front of you. Ever.”

The declaration only made her smile. “Time will tell, mortal. Time will tell.”