“Have I heard of the Chosen? What, you mean like Lazinthir Ilfernix, the strongest fire Blessed to have ever lived? Lazinthir Ilfernix, the ancient hero who lead the kingdom of Inka Bralla against a seemingly never-ending horde of undead horrors that arose in the Zigeraun Desert? The same one who, when the battle was looking bleak, the people of Inka Bralla seemingly doomed to fall to the undead nightmare, single-handedly turned the tide by burning his own life energy and literally glassing the entire fucking desert!?”

I shrugged and grinned at the King, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I might have heard of them. Once or twice.” Understatement of the year, right there. The legends of the Chosen were my absolute favorites. Each one was hand picked by the Godking (Or the God of whatever country they came from, though Terralane obviously had the best ones) and they were the absolute strongest of the strong, each one pulling off feats just as crazy as glassing the desert. They were rare too. I think His Majesty has only ever appointed like, twenty Chosen total. Something like that.

Then it clicked.

Oh man.

“Your Majesty, where are you going with this?”

The King simply wiggled His eyebrows at me and pointed at the sheet of parchment that sat on the table in front of me. His eyes twinkled with a mischievous intent.

I looked down at the sheet. It was face down, and for all intents and purposes, seemed like a piece of normal- if fancy- paper. Cream colored, some small gold embellishment here and there. But even just looking at the back, it took my breath away. My hands reached forward slowly, like they were being tugged along by strings, until I gingerly grasped the sides. It was warm, thrumming with power like a soft drum beat. It perfectly matched the sound of my heart rushing through my ears.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Oh man!

I flipped the sheet over. The rustling of the paper was impossibly loud, filling the room like the sound of an explosion. Maybe that was just me.

My heart began beating in overtime, my breathing becoming fast. Shallow. I felt dizzy, tilting side to side in my seat as I struggled to keep my eyes focused. The letter was written in a blinding golden ink, which I didn’t so much ‘read’ as the words leapt off the page and burned themselves straight into my mind.

———————————————————————————————————

-Contract Of The Chosen-

Note: This contract serves as a physical representation of the will of the Godking. Until signed, all terms are open to negotiations. Once signed, all terms and conditions become final and binding. Binding is backed and enforced by the full power and authority of Godking Samuel Lionheart, as well as the Foronean System. Breaking of the contract will result in immediate and devastating karmic retribution. This contract is exclusive property of Godking Samuel Lionheart and a copy will be sent to your house within the next three to six business days.

Congratulations, Emmanuel Burroughs! Whether it was with overwhelming might, or an unmatchable intellect, you have impressed His Majesty far beyond any mortal in recent history. Therefore, He would like to offer you a very special position as the 23rd Chosen of Terralane! The Chosen are historic, legendary heroes who ride the very flows of destiny itself, and now you have an opportunity to be one too! Simply read over this easy to understand form and sign at the bottom.

Position Description:

Out of all of the billions and billions of mortals that His Majesty has examined and tested over the long eons, He has Chosen you. Hold your head up, keep your back strong, and be worthy of it.

Position Responsibilities:

Being the Chosen is not just some job. You cannot simply hang up your hat at the end of the day, go home, and forget about it until tomorrow. It is not what you do, it is the very foundation of what you are. It is a twenty four and a half hours a day, three hundred sixty four days a year commitment. It is the mantle of Fate being worn upon your very own shoulders. It is a marriage of victorious jubilations and a constant threat of danger, and only from death shall you part.

There is no singular responsibility that the Chosen is beholden to. Rather, you are expected to live a life that aims to cultivate the prosperity and glory of both His Majesty and Terralane as a whole. This includes, but is not limited to: Protecting the innocent whenever possible. Bringing justice to those who go unpunished. Destroying those who dare blaspheme the name of the Godking.

If necessary, His Majesty will direct you to fight or lead on His behalf, as well as order you to take care of situations that require a Chosen’s special talents. You may also be required to travel to the other Foronean continents, as well as serving as a messenger between the King and one of the other Three.

These examples are not a comprehensive list.

Position Benefits and Compensation:

With the inherent risk, long work hours, and magnitude of responsibility, being the Chosen is no small task. As such, all Chosen are blessed with boons beyond that of any normal mortal.

These boons include:

The Chosen’s Blessing: As you know, every Blessing is unique to the soul who possesses it, but as the most favored mortals of His Majesty, a Chosen’s Blessing is something special indeed. Instead of simply allowing the System to generate a Blessing based on a prefabricated matrix of limitations and archetypes, His Majesty will do it Himself. The King will run a comprehensive analysis of your personality, fighting style, history, and even your genetic structure! Then, using His limitless imagination, He will loosen and stretch the System’s limitations as far as they can go, building you a completely personalized Blessing suited to your every want and need, even the ones you didn’t know about!

Fame: Chosen are true heroes to the people, and the swell of personal charisma that comes with being Chosen is sure to get you all sorts of attention. You will make some enemies, but you will also make many friends. Its a shot of instant stardom! People who wouldn’t even give you the time of day before will suddenly be buying you drinks at the bar. Its crazy!

An unreasonable amount of loot: The one common thread that ties all adventurer’s together is loot. And no one gets more loot than the Chosen. Good loot, bad loot, shiny loot and sad loot. Loot that smells, loot that sells! Loot shall be yours for the taking as Foronea herself does her level best to make it rain on you! Swim in loot, surf in loot, drown in loot!

Don’t drown in the loot.

Conclusion:

That's it! It's a pretty good deal if you ask me. Just sign here: ___________ and you will officially be the twenty third Chosen of Terralane, and His Majesty can get you Blessed!

-Dellus-Phinum (Del-Phi)

Secretary of Godking Samuel Lionheart

———————————————————————————————————

At the end of the page, the words finally stopped assaulting my mind and gave me some peace. I sat there for a second, blinking away lingering flashes of light.

His Majesty looked at me expectantly, His thick, dark gold eyebrows resting high on His face.

“You have a secretary?” I don’t know what that was the first thing out of my mouth, but it was. Maybe it was to buy my brain enough time to unbox the rest of it. Something didn’t sit right with me. Was I right to be the Chosen?

His Majesty’s brows furrowed, His head tilting in confusion. “What? How do-Let me see that.” He waved His hand, the Chosen Contract disappearing off the table and reappearing in His grip like He’d just whisked it out of thin air. “Oh wow, she’s making jokes? She must have been really bored.” He flicked the letter back at me lazily.

“Who?”

“Del-Phi. She’s officially my secretary, but that’s really selling her short. She’s my right hand woman, handles all the minor day to day management stuff I really just don’t feel like doing. Real sweetheart. Can’t imagine how I’d get along without her. But enough about that!” He clapped His giant gauntleted hands together. “What about that contract? Got any questions?”

I grimaced, nodding. “Yeah actually, there is one thing bothering me.”

Tongues of oily anxiety lashed over me. The contract talked about being a true hero to the people. Was that really me? I didn’t feel like I was a hero.

“Go ahead, shoot.”

I really shouldn’t even be bringing this up. This is so stupid. I spat it out before I had time to reconsider. “I’m worried I’m not a good fit to be Chosen.” There. I said it.

“Oh-hoh? Why? I think you would be a pretty good fit. Thats why I’m the one doing the choosing after all.”

“I dunno, I just don’t feel right about it. The Chosen are supposed to be the heroes of heroes, walking saints that give the shirts off their back, invite their enemies into their homes, all that sort of goodly stuff!”

“And you don’t think that’s you?”

“Your Majesty, I know that’s not me. I’m no hero.” I waved my hand, indicating the chamber around us. “I’m not here to be the good guy. I mean, you know what I’m here for, right? Revenge. Vengeance. I’m doing all of this to gain enough power to go out and kill assholes! Is that really Chosen material? It doesn’t feel like it to me.”

His Majesty steepled His fingers together, staring at me from behind them. I sweat bullets under His intense gaze for several tortuously slow seconds before He spoke again. A soft smile graced His face. “Personally, I think the fact that you even brought it up, risking your spot as Chosen if I changed my mind, shows that you’re pretty morally sound. Not everyone would do that you know. More to the point, that’s not why I picked you in the first place.”

“Why did you pick me?”

The King’s soft smile morphed into a lopsided grin. “At your heart, you’re a good kid, trying to do what you think is right. You’ve got humility when you need it, but also have great pride in your hard won victories. Respectful, but you absolutely refuse to kiss anyone’s ass, even my own; I can respect that. You’re a bull with no brakes. You see what you want, you charge for it, with no heed at all to what might be in your way. Ruthlessness mixed with kindness. A cold executioner’s blade alongside the outstretched hand that uplifts those who cannot stand themselves. Its a fascinating dichotomy that I think should be supremely entertaining to watch.”

He rubbed His hands together like a greedy merchant. “This world has stagnated for far too long. You, plus the tidal forces that being a Chosen carries with it, will be a perfect recipe to liven things up.”

I stared at Him, mouth slightly agape. Felt like I was doing that a lot recently.

So basically, gods were actually way shallower than I thought, and now I’m some kind of comedy show for two of them? Un-bee-lievable. That’s great. I always wanted a couple of impossibly strong voyeurs that I couldn’t do anything about. If it wasn’t bundled with all of these amazing prizes, I’d be totally pissed.

But as it was, I just laughed. It was coming with all these goodies, so it wasn’t a problem. Plus, well you know, its pretty flattering right? I think so anyway.

“Hahaha! You too Your Majesty? Between you and Mysterious Voice, I’m wondering; are all gods just bored all the time?”

He snickered. “Heh, more than you know kid. More than you know. Now, are you ready to sign this damn thing and move on to the real fun?”

“Oh. Hell. YES! Pen me up, Your Majesty!”

He did. A glimmering pearlescent quill pen appeared to my left. I unbuckled my left gauntlet and removed it. Though I wore them almost as often as not, I never did get the hang of writing with those big fat metal fingers.

I picked up the pen. With an over the top flourish, my hand looping far more than was strictly necessary, I signed my name.

Emmanuel Burroughs

His Majesty beamed, blindingly white fangs lighting up the chamber. He stood, clapping His hands. The glass table and the chairs disappeared. Somehow I was already standing even though I’d been sitting when the chair vanished.

“Fan-tas-tic. Now its time to get to the real action. I’m excited, to be honest. Its been a long time since I’ve built a Blessing. Oh I gotta tell ya Emmanuel, do I have some ideas about your Blessing. After I’m done with you, you’re gonna be a real bad-ass.”

He called me by name! Like, casually! Holy shit, being the Chosen is paying off already. Who the hell gets to talk to His Majesty this candidly? I do! Oh I’m gonna brag about that so hard to Brygid and Ferrous later.

“I fuckin’ bet. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited for anything. Ever. Like, not even close. So what do I have to do, Your Majesty?”

The King’s face scrunched up in distaste. “First, you don’t need to call me ‘Your Majesty’ every single time. It rather grates on my nerves. You have my permission to just call me ‘King Sam’. Though I would abstain from doing so out in public. People would definitely consider that blasphemy.”

Error: Brain.Emnl has crashed. Please wait for rebooting.

King Sam? That was too much. I waved my hands at the King frantically. “Y-Y-Your Majesty, I don’t know if I can. That just seems wrong to me.”

“Oh come on, just try it.” He grinned like a fox, waving the newly signed paper at me. “You know, I could always make you. You did just sign a contract.”

Oh! Critical hit!

“Okay……Ki-King Sam.” The words tasted weird in my mouth. Wrong. Not even King Samuel, His full first name. No, just ‘Sam.’ It would take a while to get used to that.

His-uh, King Sam, nodded His head and flashed me two thumbs up. “Perfect. See, doesn’t that feel less stuffy already? Okay anyway sorry, I just wanted to clear that up. Down to business for real for real this time. Emmanuel, for your part, you don’t need to do anything but stand there.”

————————————————————-

“Ooooookay, I’m ready whenever then.”

“Then let us begin.” King Sam lifted His right hand, palm up. A faint, barely audible hum filled the room as a tiny sphere of the purest golden light, about the size of a grape, appeared in His hand. “This is how much mana I infuse a trial-goer with when they get a D rank. Its barely anything, a match to their success, just barely making it through the Trial alive. Its the bare minimum I can give.”

The golden grape pulsed, swelling to the size of an apple. The hum in the chamber grew louder, along with an electric, tingling sensation- making all my hair stand on end. “This is what I use for C rankers. It may not look that much bigger, but for mana this potent, every little bit makes a huge difference. Keep that in mind.”

The apple shuddered, ballooning into a particularly large melon, bigger than my head. The electric tingle turned into a full body static field. I almost snapped the clasp of my right hand gauntlet completely off in my rush to take it off and throw it to the side, fearing that having a metal glove on might lead to a nasty zap. The hum grew even more, now more like a never-ending gonging that I felt down to my bones.

“Here’s B rank. Now we finally start getting into somewhat respectable territory, and where I actually bother to start giving out + grades as well. A Blessing with a + is about twenty five percent stronger than just a regular Blessing, give or take. So imagine that, and that’s what you would have gotten if you didn’t agree to take the special Trial. Be glad that you did, and remember that there is no triumph without challenge.”

King Sam made no outward movement, but the atmosphere changed in a flash, His telltale pressure pouring out from Him in waves. The snow white runes in the solid black floor stirred to life. They were faint at first, but as His Majesty exerted more and more pressure, they began to burn, turning from a faint snowfall into a white hot flame.

The hum stopped. Instead, a melodic choir of angelic voices (Quite possibly actual angels) sounded throughout the chamber. I couldn’t understand a damn word of it, but the tone was obvious. A powerful baritone drove the song forward like a general across the field of battle, the other voices his supporting army.

The godly mana melon in the King’s collapsed in on itself, then exploded into an orb that was a solid five foot wide sphere. I didn’t have any fruit analogies for that. The amount of energy in the orb was astounding, sending out bursts of power that pushed me back a good foot.

“Holy cow, that’s huge!”

The King barked out a laugh, then muttered something that I couldn’t hear over the choir. Then He coughed into His hand and spoke louder. “No points for guessing this is A rank. This is where I’m actually impressed with the Trial-goers’ efforts. That’s why the leap is so big. A ‘B’ is really only ‘good enough’ in my book, I consider the A rank to be a more standard ‘success’.”

“That’s a pretty high standard isn’t it? Also, do you give this speech to everyone?” I almost had to yell to hear myself over the singing. God that was actually pretty annoying.

The singing immediately lowered in volume.

Huuuuuh. Nope, just gonna move on.

King Sam scoffed. “A high standard? Of course it is! I am Godking Samuel Lionheart, Wielder of the Prideful Flame, and one of the top five most powerful beings in the entirety of the infinite Verse! Debately the number one! There is no standard that would be too high for me. And yes actually, I do do this speech every time. Well, up to the rank they received at least. Its been a very long time since I’ve had to the whole thing. Now, feast your eyes on this! The power of the S rank!”

His Majesty flexed His might, raising His hand above His head and letting out a forceful shout. The orb of power floated up off of His hand. Underneath our feet, the crimson red runes flared to life-so red they made even the most perfect apple look grey and lifeless-thrumming with a barely contained power, like a volcano about to erupt. The angelic choir didn’t get any louder, thankfully. They did begin singing with a renewed vigor and fervency. The baritone lead spouted his ancient words so fast it made my head spin.

The orb didn’t so much as twitch as it drank it more of His Majesty’s power, growing to a ridiculous ten feet around, hanging above us like Novas itself. I braced my arms in front of my face as a wave of holy inferno washed over me, a searing blast that would have cooked me for sure, if not for King Sam’s protection.

Holy fuck. I can’t believe it can get even bigger than that.

Once the orb stabilized, I didn’t ask King Sam any more questions. One; I really couldn’t think of anything to ask, at least, nothing I wanted to waste more time for. Two; My nerves were kicking into overdrive at the excitement of it all, and it felt like I was gonna throw up.

The golden god laughed. “Yeah, a lot of people get like that, so don’t feel bad if you yarf up your breakfast. And don’t worry, you don’t have much longer to worry about it one way or the other. I’m just about done powering up.”

The gold runes, last of the set of three, burst forth into life. They shimmered so purely, they must have been filled with the light of Creation itself.

Oh god, its turning me into a wannabe poet!

Thousands of light particles, no bigger than a pea, began to seep out of the intricate lines in the floor. There was an equal amount of each color; snow white, crimson red, and creation gold. They hovered silently, two or three inches above the ground. The giant ball of energy hanging in the air began to spin. Slowly at first, but it took no time at all for it to swirl like a mad dervish. The air in the chamber whipped up in a howling whirlwind that sucked in the motes of light like a directed tornado.

As the ball absorbed the motes of light, it began to change. Not just by growing bigger either. In fact, it actually started shrinking. As the orb shrank, the light changed, growing denser as the power was compacted together. When the ten foot sphere became five foot again, the light inside fully congealed together, melding into liquid light. Sweat poured off of me as the room heated even more, the light boiling and raging inside the sphere.

Further it shrank. Four feet. Three feet. Two. One.

When the sphere reached a six inch diameter, it began to change again. First it was a single spot on the surface of the frothing light, ceasing its motion as it reached some critical density. A crystal formed, solid light that began to spread across the rest of the orb like creeping ice.

When the orb finished, it was even smaller than it started, about the size of a marble. Its crystalline radiance mesmerized me, the power it contained literally too great to look away from. Even the space around it seemed to be pulled in.

“And this, my young friend, is what you’ll be getting. What do you say to that?”

Yeah, what do you say to that? I got nothing at all. I just stared at King Sam, eyes wide, like I’d just seen the sky for the first time.

He laughed. It was warm, but mischievous, exactly like my dad when he executed a well timed pun. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? Oh well, best to just let me do the talking for this part anyway. I need to make this at least a little bit official.”

King Sam cleared His throat with a cough.

The angels went completely silent.

He fixed me with His gaze, pulling me into the endless galaxies that were His emerald eyes. When His Majesty spoke, it was not as King Sam, the surprisingly jovial lion man that I’d been chatting with for the past…however long it’d been.

This was Godking Samuel Lionheart. Not only the ruler of the realm (The Three were strong, but they were not His Majesty strong), He was also the very literal Creator. The reason why I was alive. The reason there was life at all.

His comforting radiance wrapped around me, surrounding me in a warm light. His smile was filled with the love that only a parent’s can hold. Love that promised acceptance, no matter what mistakes you’ve made or will make. Promised guidance for when the path gets rough, or when you’ve lost your way.

A love that said, beyond all else, that you matter. That you belong.

My legs gave way underneath me, and I fell to my knees. Tears trickled down the sides of my face.

“Trial-goer Emmanuel Burroughs. Newest conqueror of the Trial of Blessing. Congratulations on your victory. It was hard fought, but you already know plenty about that, don’t you? Your entire life has been hard fought, from the moment you were born. You’ve been beaten, spat on, and scorned. Stolen from, pushed around. Treated like scum. And for what? Like so much of the population, your sole crime was that you had the audacity of being born without a drop of magic in your veins. Of being Mundane. For many, that alone is enough for your existence to mean nothing.”

Every word pierced my heart like a jagged knife. Tears cascaded onto the floor as I was wracked with sobbing. His Majesty was speaking form to every bitter thought I’d ever had. Every angry bruise. Every broken bone and night of crying myself to sleep. Why did they treat me, treat us, like this? Just because they could?

“Yet, despite that, here you are. You’ve cleared the Trial with a resounding victory, mostly, and now stand in front of me, in the process of being declared Chosen. A reward given only once in thousands of generations. All without a single drop of magic. Instead, you’ve displayed some of the most predatory aggression I’ve seen in a long time. You fight like a rabid animal, frothing at the mouth from rage. By itself that would make you far too large of a liability to make Chosen. But you’ve shown to have the heart and will to restrain the beast until needed, turning blind violence into controlled chaos. Exactly the kind of Chosen I like the most. You do your Mundane brethren proud.”

I lifted my head and beamed up at the King. I didn’t really consider myself much of a worshiper. I mean, of course I believed in Him, it’d be downright stupid not to. But like, praying and all that? Nah, wasn’t my thing. Looking up at His Majesty’s magnificent radiance, I knew that was going to change. How could you not pray to something this incredible?

“Emmanuel Burroughs. You, with the blood-lust of an apex beast. You, with the transcendent willpower to stay whole within the Between. You, with the Fate-kissed luck to get a second try. I make you this offer: Become my Chosen. You will be put into constant danger. Constant strife. But you will see growth beyond your wildest dreams. Attain the power to live in true freedom. No longer will you have to bow and scrape at the feet of haughty bastards who see you as less than human. In this world, the only thing that garners true respect is strength. I will grant you that strength. Do you accept this agreement?”

I shouted my answer almost before His Majesty was even done. “Yes!”

His Majesty raised His right hand, a gentle cloud of golden mana lifting me off of the floor and putting me on my feet. “Then rise, Emmanuel. Rise, and be reborn in body and spirit as my Chosen. Rise, and may you be Blessed.”