Tamiel does her best to conceal her celestial form, hiding it away behind thick robes and a formless steel mask, but the tenor of her voice is proof enough for me. She speaks with the unhurried pace of one who has already lived for eons, like Galadriel, Lady of Light herself.

  It’s a little strange, when I imagine myself talking to a girl like that. But because she is an NPC, because she is so utterly covered, somehow, it’s not so bad, and I find I don’t stutter at all.

  “You’re an angel, aren’t you? That’s how you know so much about the history of the three realms.”

  She coughs slightly, amused, it would seem. “I know little more than any of my order would have learned in seminary. But you are only half wrong, Revelator. For I am celestial, as you have surmised, though only on my father’s side.”

  “I see. And is that why you wear such thick garments? To conceal your form?”

  In answer to this, her gloved hand leaves her sleeve and lifts to her mask, gripping it. She shifts it just an inch to the right, and the seam glows with dazzling light. I wince under it, and she replaces the mask quickly.

  “Angels of old always traveled thus robed. Were they to reveal the entirety of their true form, the mortals would have been blinded. Being half human myself, I might go around thus illuminated without harming anyone, but I find I do not enjoy the attention it garners me.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Mistress Tamiel,” Sherbie interjects, seemingly mesmerized by the glimpse he’s had of her. He won’t stop staring now, and has even removed his glasses for a better look, “do all children of angels become priests?”

  “Not necessarily, though half-celestials do tend to gravitate towards holy order, like the half-infernals tend to gravitate towards chaos magic and wizardry. And many, of course, turn to even darker arts. Warlocks, for instance, commune with the demons and make pacts with them. That is a common class for the half-infernal.”

  “But you would never do such a thing.”

  “Certainly not. I follow Elyon, the King of Heaven. It would not do for me to make such an allegiance with darkness.”

  “You’ll forgive me, Mistress Tamiel,” Sherbie is still fully immersed in the role play experience. “I don’t know much about the religion of this world. Would you tell me a little?”

  “This region has many faiths, and as many deities, but there is one pervading belief amongst them all. That is the distinction between good and evil, and that each of them aligns themselves ultimately with Balmoz or Elyon. As for me, I prefer to cut out the middle-man, and give my allegiance directly to the King of Heaven. To me, it is the only logical thing to do.”

  “Because you are half-celestial?”

  “Because I have eyes.”

  “Is it really so obvious?” I interject. “As you said, there are many deities.”

  “More than can be counted, and the number grows every day. For each man or woman that is born, how many of them will decide that they themselves are deity? How many of them write their own commandments, and worship their own bodies? You yourself,” she accuses, “are once such god.”

  “I’d never really thought of it that way but…I guess you have a point.”

  “Foolish human. You say you are self-sufficient, yet you take for granted the strength of your hands, like you take for granted the earth beneath your feet. But can you make even one of these endure, by your will alone? So it is with all things under Elyon’s heaven. You are but dust, and to dust you shall return.”

  I don’t really know what to say to this. I’m pretty sure I can’t even argue with her, though a part of me would like to. She goes on.

  “Does Elyon charge you for the sunlight? And yet you enjoy it. The air you breathe, have you paid him for that? Were you to count every good thing you take for granted, how would you ever repay the King of Heaven? Your liberty, granted to you by Elyon himself, use it for good. It would not repay all the Lord of Heaven has given you, but at least you would not increase your debt.”

  [You have gained reputation with Heaven]

  [You have received 3 Stat Points]

  What’s this, now?

  “Know this:” the priestess continues, “with demons, there is always a price. For the power they give, you will give more and more in return, until you have nothing left. But the power Elyon gives is free. You have faced the trial, and proven your worthiness. You will be a valuable ally in the war to come. Take my lord’s blessing, and go. I must pray.”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Tamiel dismisses us abruptly, and retreats into the forest while Sherbie and I stare after her, rather stunned.

  “I guess you were right about there being an equally good reward for rescuing Captain Moon.”

  “Or is that just our payment for having to listen to her sermon?”

  “I thought she made some good points.”

  “You would,” I say, for some reason annoyed.

  Guess I’m some sort of holy guy now, I think, observing a new scale at the bottom of my character screen. To the right, in blue, is written Heaven. To the left, in red, is Hell. After this interaction, the cursor is moved slightly to the right, implying not only that there will be further encounters like the ones we had with Jezol and Tamiel, but that this entire game may very well culminate in some kind of faction war.

  Usually games are a little more subtle when asking for allegiances, but TC straight up asks whether you’re going to heaven or hell. It’s kind of a ballsy move, actually. I can’t even be mad at them for it.

  As for me, I never thought much about such things. Since I couldn’t kill Captain Moon, maybe I really am a good guy. But I’m more of a middle-of-the-road kind of good guy, not a super good guy. Maybe that will be enough to earn Elyon’s favor. Maybe not. Either way, I still plan on finishing this game.

  The World Tree, is it? Sealed away by the King of Heaven, guarded by a creature so terrible no angel nor devil could ever defeat it? Sounds like a final boss battle to me.

  A soldier approaches, then, a familiar face.

  “Drayer.”

  “Friends,” his face is grim. “Captain Moon has given his testimony. Lieutenant Brockduk’s treachery has been confirmed. It seems she encountered him in the forest, lured him into a false sense of security, then attacked him from behind, and turned him over to the cultists.”

  “Is he going to make it?”

  “The priestess and her acolytes were able to save him. But he is very weak. That’s the problem.”

  “Problem?”

  “Lieutenant Brockduk is denying everything and since with the cultists dead, there are no witnesses, it’s his word against hers. In this instance, army protocol demands that the matter be settled in a duel, but Captain Moon is in no shape to fight, and none of the soldiers will dare go up against Brockduk in a one on one battle.”

  “You’re asking one of us to fight in his stead,” I realize, and Drayer nods solemnly.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask. But I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  I’m startled to hear the voice at my side, and Drayer and I turn in unison to Sherbie, who wears a determined expression.

  “I’ll fight Brockduk.”

  “Just a minute, Sherbie—” I start to interject, but the game, it seems, has already accepted him as the lieutenant’s opponent.

  [Party member Sherbie has agreed to the duel.]

  “Captain Moon is my friend. You only had a single quest with him so you don’t know Rev, what a cool guy he is. He didn’t deserve to get ambushed by a fellow soldier like that,” he says, scrubbing the tears from his eyes. “I’m going to avenge him.”

  “But you’re—” I stop myself before I say something unkind. It’s true, as a character, his build is all over the place, but he’s hardly without an offensive form. Besides, he’s already agreed to the duel. There’s no talking him out of it now.

  “I’ll let the captain know,” Drayer says, clasping Sherbie’s arm in gratitude. “The duel will be held straightaway at the edge of camp. Make your preparations and meet me there.”

  “You’re sure you have plenty of potions,” I say as we make our way over there a minute later.

  “I’m sure.”

  “And you ate the fish that gave you bonus to regeneration?”

  “I did.”

  “Don’t forget when the duel starts to cast Nature’s Power on yourself, as well as Extended Healing.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And you’ll likely have a limited space inside the duel area, so be sure and position yourself properly before you transform.”

  “I know, ok? Stop nagging.”

  Ugh. I’m definitely nagging. But I can’t help myself. To me, Sherbie seems so innocent, so vulnerable, it makes me feel like a mother about to send her only son off to war.

  At least I know even if he dies in this combat, he won’t die for real. But if Sherbie loses, that will make Lieutenant Brockduk’s story the officially accepted one, and Captain Moon will be disgraced. I fear my friend will take that hard.

  I wish he would have just left the fighting stuff to me.

  When we reach the proving ground, Brockduk is already waiting. Stripped of her uniform, she wears simple army trousers and boots and a gray tanktop. The half orc female’s arms are bigger than any man’s here, bulging with muscle and glistening with sweat. Her mouth hangs open, the tusks on her lower mandible pointed outward. In her fist she grips two stout short swords. A fully offensive build, I think with concern. But will it be enough to pierce Sherbie’s dinosaur hide?

  At the signal to begin the duel, my friend transforms immediately into an Ankylosaurus, forgetting my advice to buff himself with spells first. And it’s just as well. Brockduk isn’t playing around.

  She launches herself straight at him with astounding speed, her long hair trailing behind her in the wind, swords clearly poised to decapitate. But Sherbie is surprisingly nimble in spite of his large form, and he hops to the side with his back legs, whipping that tail of his around to smash her straight in the side of the skull.

  A collective, “Oh!”, goes out from the crowd, and everybody winces at the blow.

  Dang, Sherbie. Not messing around, are you?

  Brockduk’s been knocked dizzy, and struggles to recover. Sherbie doesn’t give her the courtesy. He does another little side hop with his back feet and swings his tail around to hit her once more in the same spot.

  “OH!” the crowd makes the same sound, almost pitying the staggering lieutenant for a moment before they remember she’s the bad guy. Then a cheer goes up. Everyone is shouting Sherbie’s name, and I find myself chanting along with them as he winds up for the final pitch.

  POW!

  Her tusk is cracked and several of the teeth are knocked from her head, and it’s not a pretty sight. Brockduk hits the ground hard. Across the way, I see the colonel, watching the proceedings with an unbiased eye. He nods to Sherbie, indicating the victor, and an even louder cheer goes up from the soldiers.

  Then Captain Moon appears, limping through the crowd on crutches. He speaks directly to Sherbie, so I don’t hear the exchange, but of course my friend ends up crying.

  Ah, what a sentimental guy, I think, catching myself growing a little misty eyed myself. Then I get a system notification that throws me completely.

  [Guild member has earned Captain Moon’s favor.]

  What?

  What?!