The sound of trickling black sand filled the air in the endless room of black shelves upon shelves of black hourglasses. In that roar of passing time one with good ear might perhaps catch a distinct note of rhythmical clicking. A pair of distinctive black boots traversed the corridors between the shelves, following a trail of slime.

At long last the trail stopped.

No surprise there. There could only be one reason for her to sneak in here.

Death frowned and carefully picked up the clock by the edges to avoid the slime. At the top and the bottom, a slimy appendage scribbled something with white chalk.

Mine! Reserved! Do not touch!

“NOT AGAIN…”

With a dreadful sigh, Death shook the hourglass. Regardless of whichever way she turned it, some sand flown up. Some sand flown down. And quite a bit of sand flown sideways.

Aside from the slime a certain scent lingered in the air around this shelve. A brand of perfumes favored by a well-known troublemaker.

Careful as not to break it, Death put the clock away. Perhaps she should pay certain mortal an unexpected visit?

Perhaps.

***

“You came to gloat as well?”

Joe sat at the edge of the dried-out river. His mood murkier than the mud below him.

“I DO NOT GLOAT. WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

Death loomed above him.

“Oh, no particular reason. Trying to figure out how to move an entire village out of this shit hole to somewhere they can live peacefully. In Twenty-two hours. No big deal.”

Two hours of his allotted time already passed with no change beside Joe feeling as if he were stuck in some limbo for the past two years. Now even Death came to mock him.

He gave her one more look.

“Another house call in Japan?”

“YOU CAN TELL?”

Instead of her usual attire she wore a tight fitting, black latex catsuit and a motorbike helmet with protruding cat’s ears.

“Em, just a lucky guess.”

He tried not to stare. Those hips were… unearthly.

“Say, do you happen to know anyone who faced similar trial?”

“YES.”

“Really?! What did they do?”

New hope burned in his eyes.

“THEY DIED.”

“Not very helpful. No offense.”

“Let me rephrase my earlier question. Do you know anyone with a similar quest that survived?”

Death remained silent as if searching her memory.

“ONE MAN SURVIVED.”

“Did he? What did he do?”

“THAT IS NOT FOR YOU TO KNOW.”

“Why not?”

“THAT WOULD BE CHEATING.”

Joe hanged his head and fell silent. Almost nine years passed since he felt this way.

Nine years ago, judge Folton sentenced him for the total of one hundred seventy years in prison for rape, domestic abuse and conspiring to murder. None of which he committed.

But his bitch wife and her friends testified against him. His own words and even a CCTV camera recording proved useless. He spent five years behind bars while his ex, splurged his hard-earned wealth. In the end that saved him. Drunk and probably overdosed, she boasted how she trashed some lousy guy's life and took all his money. Somebody recorded that and posted it online. How his lawyer got his hands on that tape Joe had no idea. The trial restarted and eventually they cleared his name. Although nothing can bring him back the years he lost or get rid of the feeling now clenching his gut.

“PERHAPS THIS WILL INTEREST YOU.”

Death showed him a black page in her black ledger. Myriads of names were usually scribbled in tiny scrip on the pages like this but the place she pointed at remained empty.

“And why would it interest me?”

“THAT IS THE LIST OF PEOPLE THAT I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH. IN THIS PARTICULAR AREA. WITHIN NEXT SEVENTY-TWO HOURS.”

“Oh.”

Understanding crept at the border of his mind.

“You mean… the guy that did it…”

Death said nothing more but turned around and walked away. Black visor hid her face, but Joe had an uncanny feeling she might been smiling.

And then it dawned on him.

The body bag could hold more than body parts.

***

“What is this nonsense?!”

The village chief roared in his face, waving the scroll Joe produced.

“Are you insane?! Who of their sound mind would sing something like that! Preposterous!”

“It’s either that or you’ll die here within the next eighteen hours.”

“Lies! If you think I will allow anyone in this village to fall victim of your machination,”

He gripped the scroll with both hands but a blade suddenly pressed to his throat stopped him from ripping the paper.

“Nuh-uh. No shredding. Enchanted paper. Expensive stuff. Your ass ‘es not even worth holding it.”

Savil’s bored face held no emotions.

“You dare?! You would betray your own kind for that human! All we know he may sell us and our children to the slavers!”

A murmur of anger and consternation went through the gathered crowd. Not a single person appeared to remember who fed them yesterday.

“Oy, gramps.”

Neira got up from her spot besides Joe.

“I have called master many names and many he deserves. Like useless, lazy or pervert,”

Her eyes went glossy for a moment.

“But a liar he ain’t. Insult him once more and I shall break everything in your body that can be broken and then I will get my useless master to heal you so I could break you once more. Bit by bit.”

“Y-you c-can threaten me a-all you like but I w-will not sign!”

The elder cast the scroll aside and the crowd roared in defiance.

“I will sign!”

The twiggy priestess called from within the crowd silencing everybody. She straightened out her robe and marched towards Joe, the crowd opening before her. She picked up the enchanted parchment and placed it before Joe.

“Do you swear on the one who brought you here that what you say is true and that you will bring us no harm?”

Joe looked her in the eyes then once more read the context of the contract he prepared.

“Whoever sign this deal shall become my temporary personal possession for the next twenty-four hours or as long as the quest requires. Upon expiry of this deal, everyone shall be freed and paid ten gold as compensation. To that I swear.”

“That is all I need.”

She placed her name on the scroll and went to stand beside Joe.

It took a while but after a bit of grumbling and whispering, all the villagers signed. Joe couldn’t quite decide whether the priestess’s display or the promised 10 gold coins swayed more minds but, in the end, even the village chief signed.

“Now, go rest. We move tonight.”

The people slowly dispersed, compelled by his order.

“That includes you two. Go find the Freeloader and get some sleep”

“Hai-hai mastah.”

With the scroll safely stored in his item box, Joe checked his status.

Accepting 117 people (body and soul) as his property leveled his body bag skill multiple times. The capacity increase and the MP cost decreased. Although the biggest change happened to his Mana. Through the necromancer soul link skill, He got access to the combined mana pool of the entire village. He had over two hundred thousand MP. Now this should come in handy

He knelt on the deserted village square and dug his hands into the ground.

Now, this better work.

“Harvest.”

Not enough mana.

The dreadful screen hanged before his eyes. Even the whole accumulated mana of the entire village did not help.

Joe looked at the required amount and counted. Around fifty numbers and about twice as many zeros.

Not a chance. Nothing short of a miracle would help him now. Oh.

A miracle.

Now it won’t count as cheating would it? Surely not. He'll just pray. What’s wrong with that?

He closed his eyes and focused.

“Huh? H-Hallo? What is that noise? I-is somebody there?”

Confused voice of a certain tentacle rung in his mind.

“It’s me, Joe.”

“Oh! Joe! You’re praying! You remembered!”

“Well, yeah, about that. I really, really would…”

“Cookie.”

“Huh?”

“I need a cookie. One for each soul. Otherwise, I cannot help you. I would really, really want to help but D says I can’t do any miracles unless you offer me a sacrifice in return. Rules.”

“What?”

“The amount and power of available miracles is limited by the number of followers. Normally I wouldn’t be able to do anything with only one follower but since we are a newly registered religion, I’m allowed to grant you minor miracles in exchange for offerings and sign that off as marketing expenses for the next three years since you are my one and only prophet and doing miracles is in your job description.”

“Oh-khey. So, cookies?”

“Yes! You know, the fluffy ones! And no cinnamon!”