***The Crystal City***

***Seria***

“He is using the war to conduct immoral experiments!” Myrm screeched as she spoke, clearly at the edge of losing it completely. Her voice was like a loudspeaker and I wouldn’t have been surprised had the mana crystal within her vicinity shattered. To show her outrage, she waved her hand impotently, her armour clanking along in tune with her movements.

All the collected gods and goddesses in the room flinched at Myrm's unexpected outburst. Even Tjenemit had to cover his ears in a rather undignified manner, pulling a face as the sonic assault ravaged the whole of Studio 7.

I watch as Marigold, who is sitting right next to Myrm, reaches up to wipe at his suddenly wet ear, only to find it covered with half-orc blood, clearly recognisable if not by smell, then by the slightly greenish tint to it. He blinks as if he can’t believe his own eyes.

“I need a healer,” he comments stoically, still looking at his hand, unable to comprehend that a mere scream could have injured him.

“Don't interrupt me!” Myrm snaps at him, disliking him drawing the attention.

“What!?” The half-orc looks up to her, clearly unable to understand the danger he is in. He opens his mouth wide and hits the side of his head as if he is trying to dislodge something inside his ear. “I think my eardrums are ruptured,” he explains unnecessarily loudly what everyone else already concluded when we saw the river of blood flowing out of his ear.

Sighing, I cast Minor Heal on him, wondering why any god would neglect to learn at least one healing spell. We may be almost indestructible when our auras are fully released, but it's hardly practical to run around with a fully released aura all the time. Releasing one’s aura among other gods is a clear sign of hostility, so most people refrain from letting their powers run uncontrolled. If we didn’t have this custom our society would be unlikely to be able to function as it is.

So there are still plenty of possibilities to get injured, either in an accident or by intention. Having some form of healing is only prudent in such a situation.

Tjenemit opens his mouth, yawning in an attempt to relieve the ear-pressure, then he flicks a finger next to his head, testing his own listening faculties. When he is satisfied with the result, he returns his attention to us. More accurately, to the god who is – for all intents and purposes – behaving like none of this has anything to do with him.

“Ascathon, is it true that you are using the war between the mortals to test some of your experiments?” the ancient god asks, looking down from his heightened podium at the front.

“No,” the God of Chaos answers without hesitation.

Myrm is about to explode again when Tjenemit raises a hand, stopping the outburst before it can begin. The Council member gives the God of Order a reprimanding look. “Myrm, if you launch another scream like the one before, there will be repercussions. And remember, this is just the annual meeting to determine everyone's success.”

He returns his attention to Ascathon. “Yet, most of the things that 'happened' to get loose in the world are clearly your creations. I’ve read up on this war between your followers and Myrm’s, and I must say that I simply don’t care as long as you two do your jobs. But it’s an entirely different situation if your squabbles affect other deities!”

“Maybe.” Ascathon purses his lips. “May I ask how you are linking these 'things' to me? It would be very helpful if I knew exactly what you are talking about.”

The Council member clenches his jaw, clearly disliking Ascathon’s attitude. “I know because you are not the only person who can read a magical signature.” Tjenemit looks down at the broken mask in front of him. The object shaped into a white, demonic grimace with a single horn jutting out where the forehead should be.

“This thing reeks of you. So, please explain how this one – and other experiments – are not connected to you? Is there someone running around who can copy your magical signature? If that's the case, I suggest for you to catch this person asap.”

Ascathon shrugs but looks like someone who has been given an uncomfortable task. “Look, I can hardly be responsible for every idiotic mortal who wanders into a closed-off dungeon to retrieve powerful artefacts which they can't handle.”

“So the mask ‘is’ yours?” Tjenemit raises an eyebrow and looks down at the artefact which is one of the causes for this assembly. It's lying on the table in front of the Council member, a large crack splitting it in two. But even as we watch, the mask seems to repair itself, slowly flowing back together like water in slow motion. “You have no idea how much trouble this thing caused. It even took over one of our lesser deities, so that I had to get involved; and I don’t like getting involved.”

The Council member looks at a minor deity, someone by the name Sajurm.

I think Sajurm is in charge of wishes and desires, but I could be wrong. Since he is just a minor deity it doesn't matter much. The problem lies in the fact that he belongs to Myrm's faction and that Tjenemit got involved in the whole affair.

As far as I understand it, Sajurm investigated a series of strange disappearances on allied territory which had gone on for far too long. For decades, the Allied Forces were plagued by a strange being which they just called the White-Masked Devil. This strange and apparently insane being would randomly appear and attack anything in its vicinity, displaying power no mere mortal could stand against. By the time any help could arrive, the Devil would have been gone.

It was Sajurm who finally managed to solve the problem, or better to say, to become a problem big enough to warrant the attention of a true god.

Sajurm managed to arrive at the scene of the incident in time to catch the White Devil in the act. Sensing the divine-touched power of the being, he then proceeded with an attempt to take the creature prisoner. Finally, he managed to dispatch the White-Masked Devil, only to fall victim to the mask's influence.

It looks like the source of the legend which grew throughout the border region was a magical artefact which drove its wearers insane. Every time someone found the mask, that person would become the White-Masked Devil, just to run off and die somewhere where the mask would be found again a few years later.

Compared to the overall war which is currently going on between the Alliance and the Empire, the losses caused by the mask weren't worth the effort to launch a full investigation. That is until the mask managed to take over a lesser deity who subsequently wiped out a sizeable part of the warring forces in the immediate region.

When it became clear that the cause for the massive loss of life was some masked deity, Tjenemit got involved, subduing the rogue deity who turned out to be Sajurm.

Even though Tjenemit showed surprising restraint in subduing Sajurm, the deity in question didn't get away unscathed.

A few days passed since the incident, but the man is still as pale as a ghost, even though several healers diagnosed him as physically healthy. It's also notable that he is uncharacteristically meek compared to his previous behaviour. The cause is likely that the damage he took from being dominated by the mask wasn't as much physical, as it was mental.

Shuddering, Tjenemit places a finger on the thing and presses down, breaking it yet again. Then he shoves the pieces away from each other, making sure that it's harder for the artefact to reassemble itself. “Sajurm was lucky that my first reaction was just to punch him in the face. Had I been forced to consider other options we would very likely be down one participant in our little project.”

“Yes,” Ascathon replies after careful consideration.

“Hah!” Myrm calls out as if she just won a major victory.

“I remember having made such a mask in the distant past,” Ascathon elaborates quickly. “But I lost it, maybe six hundred years ago.”

“Lies! You clearly intervened in the mortal's affairs and violated the rules, even harmed another god!” Myrm points accusingly at her foe. “Nobody sane would just 'lose' a dangerous object like that!”

Ascathon blinks slowly, then looks at the mask and back at Myrm. “I would hardly call that mask 'dangerous'. It's a failed creation of mine. Yes. Do I have the responsibility to keep track of everything I create? No. That would be much too bothersome. I've haunted that world for over two thousand years. There are countless abandoned facilities, lost artefacts and treasures, even abandoned workshops all over the damned planet. How is it my fault if someone digs up an ancient ruin?”

“Why would you abandon a whole workshop?” Tjenemit asks, stupefied.

Suddenly Ascathon turns defensive. “You know... things happen... for the sake of... of science! One thing leads to another and there is a tiny, little accident... and then you have to abandon the workshop.”

The Council member doesn't seem satisfied with the answer but decides to follow a different route of questions. “At the moment, I am very displeased with the situation. How many of these dangerous artefacts do you have loose in the world?”

“Ahem... do you need exact numbers? Because, if I have to list every little thing, that could take a long time. Not to mention that not all of my creations are inanimate objects. What about the sentient ones, or those that can move? I can hardly be expected to lock away that poor golem I made a century ago. He is-”

Tjenemit raises his hand, stopping Ascathon. “Just the things that can be dangerous to lower level deities and above.”

“Okay...” Ascathon looks perturbed.

The Council member sighs after a few seconds of guilty silence. “What's the problem?”

“I am just thinking.” Ascathon gestures at the mask on the table. “Because that mask isn't really dangerous if you don't happen to have the intellect of a mouse.”

Several of the lower-ranked deities in the room gasp, while others start whispering with each other.

“What I want to say,” the God of Chaos continues, “is that it will take some time to make a list. I never expected the mask to be able to affect a deity, so a few of my previous 'assumptions' might be wrong.” He laughs, sounding genuinely amused. “I mean, who in this day and age runs around without active mental defences?”

Several eyes wander to Sajurm, who is watching the wall in front of him, trying hard to blend out that he is the topic of conversation.

“I just want everyone to know that it's probably impossible to 'find' and 'retrieve' everything I have left lying around over the years.”

Tjenemit doesn't look pleased in the slightest, considering that answer.

Ascathon spreads his hands. “What do you expect from me!? I am no Oracle! How could I have known that you would decide to use that exact planet for your experiment!? It's not like you didn't have a multiverse full of other choices!”

The Council member sighs, admitting defeat. “I suppose that's a viable argument. Maybe we should have chosen a more controllable environment for the first test-run.”

While Tjenemit does his worst at solving the issue between Ascathon and Myrm, I have the time to thoroughly ponder the situation.

It took me a long time to realize it, but Tjenemit might actually want Ascathon to be distracted. Aside from me, he is also involved in the Council's business, and they are aware of his unique skills. Aside from that, Ascathon is much more of a loose cannon and a free spirit.

As am I, but I've gone through a great deal of grovelling to hide my true intentions from the Council.

Having Myrm and Ascathon distracted by each other might actually not be such a bad thing for the Council.

I let the thought linger as I check it for mistakes, but I find no issues with this line of logic.

Tjenemit wants them at each other's throats so that they are easier to control. It might seem like Ascathon and Myrm are causing issues, but one world of mortals doesn't matter to Tjenemit in the slightest.

Compared to the time when Ascathon used to spend time in his office in the Crystal City, the city became outright tame. He certainly didn't kill another deity since he got busy with the world... aside from that one fellow.

My eyes wander involuntarily to the little, green goblin who looks rather dejected at his new body, a mirror in hand, picking at his skin. He has been doing that ever since I brought him back, which is disturbing. Everyone else would freak out at waking up as a goblin, but this guy didn’t say a word.

Either he is still in shock after having seen Lucifer’s true form, or worse, he actually likes being a goblin. Anyway. The big difference is that this was more of a public show of force... okay... throwing the fellow to Lucifer was an execution. But! The big difference is that Ascathon didn't run off with the challenger's soul. Tjenemit also didn't get involved.

Insofar, the current situation can be considered a win-win for the Council.

Growling, I decide that something has to be done about this damned war. The mortals have to bleed while Ascathon and Myrm are throwing verbal pebbles at each other. All the while Tjenemit is holding court as if he is the ruler of some mythological pantheon.

The fact that Tjenemit is holding this shit-show is only owed to unfortunate circumstances. Hadn't that little deity been too weak to withstand a simple mind-altering effect, everything would have proceeded as normal. After all, this is just another excuse for Myrm to accuse Ascathon of doing something bad, hoping that the Council would do her job for her. What the stupid woman isn't realizing, is that the Council doesn't want to punish Ascathon as long as things aren't going totally out of control.

I was biding my time, hoping to get my chance of recruiting Ascathon and Myrm to my cause, but that prospect looks bleaker the longer I watch the situation unfold.

So, what to do? How could I turn this war of mortals into a war of the gods?

My unique position would allow me to play both sides, and I had to take advantage of that for as long as possible.

I purse my lips, deep in thought. Taking action against either party would almost certainly result in a quick escalation, and I would have to do my best to stay on top of things. For all intents and purposes, this won't be easy if I don't want to lose certain people. The planning would have to be perfect, assuring my presence in important cases.

The only question is, who do I want to save at all costs? Who is worthy of saving?

***The World***

***Ascathon***

“Ascathon?” Ashley calls out as she enters my workshop. “Have you seen Lilli and Anna?”

I look up from where I was working on a device that may be able to change the status quo between me and the World Enchantment. Turning to face Ashley, I quickly scan my recent memory for the last place where I encountered Ashley's two daughters the last time.

Or should I rather say... where they jumped me?

“I am actually not certain,” I reply. “Your girls are into that whole body-change-thing, so I am never a hundred percent sure who I am dealing with. But weren't they assigned as priestesses to the northern front? I can recall meeting them when I was there for a visit.”

“Yes.” Ashley places her hands on her hips, frowning. “I was hoping that you sent them on a special mission, but if you haven't seen them either, then they are missing.”

“Missing?” I ask. “How is that possible?”

“I don't know, but they haven't reported to me in a week.” Ashley huffs. “Either they are having an orgy and forgot to invite me, which would be really rude, or something happened to them.”

I bite my own tongue to keep myself from launching a witty reply. Who would want to invite his own mother to an orgy? But then again, these are succubi, crazed sex demons. And I've lived with them for quite some time and while Ashley is right about her daughters being capable of engaging in an orgy for days on end, it would also be a huge insult not invite the matriarch to such a party.

I let out a long sigh. “You are right. Something must have happened to them. I was fearing the other side would involve you guys sooner or later. That's why I told you to stay at home.”

Ashley scowls. “My girls and I went into this knowing full well that we are risking our lives, so don't dare to sound that whiny ever again. Do you even know how boring life becomes after a few thousand years? Insufferable! So don't even think that we would blame you if something happened.”

I clench my teeth. “Still. Attacking the other side with divine force is forbidden according to the rules, and nothing less than divine force could smite one of your daughters.” Getting to my feet, I walk towards the exit of my workshop but stop halfway there. “Do you think that this could be a retaliation for the mask-thing?” I ask.

“Didn't you say that Tjenemit forgave that transgression when you provided him with a list of locations which lists all the dangerous items?”

I look at Ashley. “I never said that I suspect Tjenemit to be responsible. At least in this case. Myrm might have become tired of trying to goad the Council into action.”