Just as Grimfalk was about to return to his demiplane, a voice buzzed inside his mind.

  President Brett would like to see you in his chambers. Please exercise discretion but make your way there quickly, Formua Integralis requested, her voice as devoid of emotion as always.

  The theropod deity wasted no time in making his way back through the winding halls of GOD’s headquarters, dodging the odd deity here and there that were wrapping up conversations or were engaging in other business around the compound.

  “Wrong way, stubby,” Phasco, the deity of koalas joked as he high-fived Kangall, the deity of the macropods.

  Grimfalk, still upset from the earlier discussion of a killer asteroid, snapped back with unusual wit.

  “Sorry I can’t stop to chat, I’ve got a meeting. And clownshoes, be careful: you don’t know where those hands have been scratching.”

  Laughing loudly to bolster his courage, the theropod deity stomped off, his tail wagging with nervous energy.

  “At least my hands can scratch!” Phasco called out just as Grimfalk turned a corner and disappeared.

  Having disposed of his detractors, Grimfalk made his way through the labyrinth of offices and seldom-used facilities that had once been used by deities who preferred communal living or who could not create their own demiplane. He snorted as he recalled those heady days…once, he had stalked through these halls with his head and tail held high. Things had been a lot simpler in his heyday too. If he didn’t like another deity, they would get into a fight. A few moments to a few hundred years later, one of them would admit the other was stronger. Then they’d go back to whatever it was they had been doing. This current system, with its politics, made him shudder.

  The three deities at the top formed a very uneasy triumvirate, one that Grimfalk expected to have fallen apart several centuries ago. After all, no species had gone from relative obscurity to absolute dominance in just a few thousand years. It was unheard of. But Brett had skyrocketed through the power rankings, dragging Fellissa and Canius up with him. Neither of those two was anything special. In fact, they were more like each other than either would ever admit: four legs, carnivorous, strong jaws, and fur coats. So what if Fellissa was an ambush predator, while Canius was a pursuit–persistence hunter? That was barely a difference. Theropods were where it was at, possessing the largest carnivore ever to grace the planet.

  Thoughts of genetic superiority kept Grimfalk’s deep-seated sadness away as he made his way to a place he had only been a few times, yet was able to find unerringly: the President’s chambers. The massive neutronium double doors were shut. Knowing from experience that knocking was useless, the theropod deity extended a claw and bent down, straining to reach the doorbell. A melodious chime that only he and the room’s occupants could hear echoed through Grimfalk’s mind. The doors slowly swung open.

  “Ah, Grimfalk, come in, come in,” Brett said from behind his desk as he waved the much larger deity into the room.

  Grimfalk entered the President’s chamber, which was much larger than it appeared from the outside, and stopped respectfully a few strides away from the desk. A pair of sofas, suitable in size for animals up to and including bears, stood in front of the desk.

  “Errr, I can have suitable seating brought in, just a moment,” President Brett said, sheepishly looking between the theropod’s bulk and the tiny sofas.

  “It’s no trouble, President Brett. I am happy to stand,” Grimfalk responded, wanting to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible. “Why don’t we go ahead and get started, if that’s all right with you.”

  “We’re waiting on just one more person, if that’s okay,” the President of GOD answered with the smooth assurance of someone who knows they aren’t going to be contradicted.

  “Sure thing, uh, President,” the theropod deity replied.

  “Please, call me Brett,” the President said with a tight smile.

  There was a short pause as the two deities looked at each other. Grimfalk wasn’t sure if he should say anything, or maybe find something to fiddle with so that the President could do some work while he waited. President Brett broke the silence.

  “So, uh, your rooster has caused me an incredible amount of trouble. I’m not going to lie to you, I have enjoyed the challenge of trying to kill it. That it still breathes is both fascinating and troubling. It seems to have inherited some of your…how should I put this...your persistence in the face of adversity.”

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  “I never intended for it to be a thing,” Grimfalk answered, almost missing the fact that President Brett had just paid him a compliment. “I needed Champions and he fit the bill based on his DNA.”

  Brett laughed.

  “I know! That’s what has made the whole situation absurd. Think of it this way: a deity with no followers, resurrecting a lost species that once dominated the Earth, only to have his Champion deny his genetic heritage. It’s like a soap opera!”

  Grimfalk wasn’t sure what cleaning and singing had to do with the situation, but he sensed that it wasn’t important. Instead, he laughed.

  “I know! It’s bad enough he goes and picks fights with the three of you, but then he defies me…if he wasn’t such a great source of DKP I would have withdrawn his Champion status a long time ago.”

  “You would have? I find that incredibly…shortsighted of you,” the President said. “Would you want unwilling servants? That monster of a rooster that you have raised might just…”

  Whatever Brett was going to say was interrupted by a slight thump. Grimfalk looked toward the source of the noise to find Canius lounging on the sofa next to him, his long tongue dripping the occasional drop of saliva down onto the immaculate fabric.

  “Oh, good, you’re here, Canius,” President Brett noted. “Do you want to start, or should I?”

  “Sorry I was late. I was running a few simulations with Rogier,” Canius apologized, his voice rumbling out of his throat and filling the air with its deep, rich, bass. He turned to look at Grimfalk, who was still standing there.

  “One moment, Brett,” the canine deity promised. There was a brief flash of golden fur, then an enormous armchair appeared directly behind Grimfalk.

  “You should sit, Grimfalk. You’re not here as a supplicant, after all, but as a peer.”

  “That’s…that’s incredibly kind of you,” the theropod deity answered as he eased his enormous bulk into the seat. His frame fit perfectly into the luxurious chair, and an involuntary sigh escaped from Grimfalk as he wiggled his hindquarters a bit. The armchair was easily the most comfortable seat he’d ever sat in.

  “Now that you’re comfortable, can I get you any refreshment? A milk bone, perhaps,” the canine deity offered.

  “Oh, uh, no thank you,” Grimfalk politely declined.

  “Very well, I wanted to talk a bit about your Champion, the rooster known as Charlemagne,” Canius continued. “I suppose it’s no secret to you that multiple teams of canine hunters are out for his head. One of them, led by my most powerful Champion in all of West Africa, cornered and nearly killed the rooster not long ago near the city of Porto Novo. Although the rooster was grievously wounded, he and his two companions, a mosquito and a pangolin, escaped into a Dungeon. They have been in that Dungeon now for some time, so I assigned my hunters to a new target. I assume that none of this is new information to you, but I am telling you this to let you know that I already possess considerable information about the rooster’s activities.

  Grimfalk, who had been listening intently, nodded. There was no reason to deny anything that Canius had just said: it was all available for live stream, and he had no doubts that, not only did Brett and Canius have access to every stream, but they also had some sort of inside with the System that would give them information even beyond what he could access.

  “Yes, you’ve summarized the current situation quite well,” Grimfalk agreed. “I wasn’t aware that their hunters had been called off, but as I understand it, one or more of the canines in that pack have a Special Ability or Skill that reduces the Attributes of their prey. This allows them to harm individuals that would otherwise be immune to their attacks. Charlemagne was caught by them at night after he had gone to sleep, thus allowing them to weaken him before attacking en masse.”

  “Your suppositions are accurate, but I will not reveal additional information about my hunters’ skills, not at this time at least,” Canius noted.

  “I will tell you two other things, Grimfalk,” Brett added. “The first is that the target Canius’ pack is hunting is a human. We do not let our personal feelings get in the way of GOD business. I have a responsibility as President to not show favor to any one group of creatures in the conduct of my official duties, and this asteroid is a threat that GOD must face together.

  Canius growled but said nothing as President Brett continued.

  “The second thing is that it would be incredibly foolish for me to personally intervene in a System-generated Challenge. Not only could this trigger worldwide consequences such as roaming Dungeon bosses, stronger Challenges, and entire swaths of the Earth becoming uninhabitable, it puts members of GOD at personal risk. After the vote today, Canius and I put our heads together and we came up with a better idea. Yes, the System Integration team is working on a patch right now, but that’s not our primary option anymore. There’s something that we can try immediately; if it fails, we can implement the patch.”

  Understanding of why he had been summoned to meet with President Brett began to dawn, along with suspicion. Grimfalk knew where he stood in the GOD pecking order. If Brett and Canius were being so nice to him, there was something going on…something that they wanted.

  They wanted Charlemagne.

  “Let me guess,” he responded after a short pause. “You want Charlemagne to do something to stop the asteroid?”

  “Correct,” Canius barked.

  “Yes, the rooster is involved, but he’s not the only one that we need,” President Brett agreed.

  “If you just wanted him to take care of it, you wouldn’t have called me here in person,” the theropod deity decided, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. “There’s some sort of deal you want to make.”

  “That’s right,” Brett said with a nod. “I’m glad that we understand each other here. What I am about to propose is both highly lucrative and highly dangerous. If that doesn’t sound like your particular brand of ambrosia, I can understand that. After all, this is the big leagues you’re batting in.”

  Grimfalk didn’t understand all the words that the President had used there, but the meaning was clear.

  “Well, if my Champion is taking on the majority of the risk, I should get most of the rewards,” he argued.

  Brett leaned forward and smiled.

  “Let’s talk exact figures, why don’t we? What do you propose?”