A Deal With The Devil 2

Commissioned by 10k

Written by HikerAngel

“Take this, you foul beast!”

Edward delivered what should have been a fatal blow to the enemy dragon. He believed that it would. Everything had been leading up to this very moment.

This dragon had murdered his family, ravaged his village and taunted the poor adventurer while doing so. Since that fateful day, he had dedicated every waking second to planning his well-deserved vengeance. He had built up an army of fellow resentful heroes, all affected by this very same dragon and desiring noble revenge. Passing through the dragon’s lair was a bloodbath, and Edward never got the chance to actually face his long-time adversary before being forced to retreat and recoup.

Before long, he had lost all of his men on the many perilous repeat visits. Any hope he had was dwindling fast. Seeing this dragon as an impossible obstacle that hung over his head, constantly taunting him with repeat failures, he became a drunkard at the nearest tavern he could find. Town legends were generated from his slurred ramblings, his sorrows slipping from his loose lips like a waterfall of words.

But, as if fate was ready to throw him a bone, luck came in the form of a guardian angel—or more accurately, devil. The diminutive demon promised that she would help him get revenge upon this dragon in exchange for his soul, however even in his subdued state of consciousness, Edward could tell that she was actually desperately looking for some sort of human connection.

Edward and the demon quickly became an unstoppable team, the disgraced hero quickly pulling himself from the brink of depression. She had helped him “find” a new legendary sword, one powerful enough to slay even the most mighty of dragons. It took him a great deal of courage to return to the dragon’s lair, memories of how his party of hundreds had quickly diminished to just himself in mere minutes.

“Don’t worry, Edward. I believe in you. You can do this,” the demon told him, planting a passionate kiss on his cheek. “It’s time to do this for your family. For all those who have been unlawfully slayed by this beast in pursuit of their righteous cause.”

That was exactly the motivating speech he needed, a single tear shedding from his eye at all the lives lost along the way of this devastating quest.

This demon made quick work of any traps. She opened up secret passageways and shortcuts he had never thought to check. Before long, Edward had reunited with his serpentine adversary. The dragon didn’t remember him, but Edward was ready to show his foe why that would be a fatal mistake.

An epic battle had ensued, with Edward finally coming out on top. Standing over his almost-defeated foe, he prepared for the final strike.

The demon had assured him that the legendary sword would indeed deal a guaranteed killing blow against a dragon as long as the blade pierced right between their eyes. At first, Edward wasn’t sure if he believed that, as most dragons had a particularly tough section of hide in that area and aiming for such a spot would put him within retaliation range should he miss.

But everything was set up perfectly and the demon had never led him astray before. He lifted the sword over his head, taking a deep breath before plunging it down into the dragon’s head with all his might.

The “legendary” blade shattered upon contact with the dragon’s hide, leaving Edward frozen in shock as his incredulous eyes gazed upon the useless hilt that still remained in his hands.

Rhea had fully intended to ignite the sword with a critical strike for this very scenario, but her mind was a bit occupied by a sudden memory of how Rhys had comically failed at landing that “critical strike” and was none the wiser to Rhea’s behind-the-scenes manipulation. This memory then quickly spiraled into a saddening rabbithole of other Rhys-related memories. Before long, she had recounted every single millisecond of their time together, scrubbing over the raw footage like a film editor looking for cuts to make. By the time her thoughts had returned to the current situation, it was a bit too late for a critical strike to be useful.

“Shit, sorry Edward, I completely forgot about you. Just phased out there for a second,” Rhea spoke, not seeming to care that her new hero had recently had his torso separated from his legs between a wall of dragon teeth.

Rhea briefly considered rewinding time and reviving her latest adventurer fling, but ultimately decided against it. It just wasn’t the same. Ever since Rhys had left her life, she couldn’t seem to recapture that same magic that he brought to her infinite existence. There was no one quite as naive and gullible yet wholeheartedly genuine as he had been, and now she feared it would never happen again.

Sure, she had tried with others, went out of her way to find the most pathetic losers with the hope that one of them would fall in love with her just as naturally as Rhys had. Nothing seemed to be working. She was the strongest goddess in existence, as omnipotent as they came, and yet she couldn’t replicate the organic love that Rhys once felt for her, no matter how orchestrated it may have been at the time.

Rhea was terrified of seeking him out. She purposely blocked the knowledge of where he was from her head. Was he alive? Dead? She didn’t even know. Shrodinger’s cat-ing him seemed to be the only way she could achieve any piece of mind.

There were… temptations. Distractions. It would be so easy—rewriting history so that she never decimated that group of mean adventurers that had rejected Rhys, as well as the king that had funded them—but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She didn’t want to lie to him anymore. She could lie to anyone—gods, devils, the person reading this. A simple finger twitch and any memory they may have had of something she did or said was erased.

Rhys was different. He was a factor she hadn’t accounted for and now never wanted to. If he came back to her, he’d do it on his own terms. Rhea respected this “away time”, even if calling it that was optimistic at best. It was a struggle for the goddess who never struggled, being away from the one person who gave her any sort of interest in her dull, dull life.

But at night, she could lie to herself all she wanted. Like cheating on a diet, Rhea was struggling to respect her distance with Rhys.

She didn’t need to sleep, it was completely pointless to her. Despite this, the disguised goddess would recreate those two meager nights she shared with Rhys over and over, sometimes ignoring the natural patterns of the sun and moon altogether.

It was like a summoning ritual of her very own, performed only to maintain her fleeting sanity. She would cuddle up next to “him,” digging her cheek into his back and curling her forked tail around his leg. She would often strip down to complete nudity, her clothes flaring away with a faux fiery transition no one would ever see.

Her pale yet warm skin felt soothed hugging the cold armor “Rhys” slept with. Initially, it was an oversight on her part—Rhys never slept with his armor on—but she justified it by hypothesizing he’d have some silly little justification for it.

“But Rheamone! If I don’t sleep with my armor on, what if bandits come in the middle of the night for an easy kill?” Rhea spoke, replicating Rhys’ voice perfectly as she settled in for another night with her forever lover, a wave of her hand generating entirely new matter which would serve as the baseline for a more personal dimension of her choosing.

While it had never happened, nor could it due to her sheer perfection, Rhea had become paranoid that an outside force would disrupt the illusion. A passing traveler or a desperate creature could spot the replica and assume it to be legitimate, a safe haven from the elements—only to be greeted with the creator of those very elements who would most certainly vanquish them to a unique form of non-existence.

“Oh Rhys, look at you, sleeping so soundly,” Rhea spoke, a passing thought generating a hollow replica of her human love in the hollow replica of a bed in a hollow replica of the second inn they ever spent the night in together. “I sure hope I’ll be able to snuggle up next to you without you ever finding out, heehee. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m a goddess! The goddess! I can do anything I want!”

Anything I want. Anything I want. Anything I want.

Those three words echoed in her head like sonar, her face twitching as she tried to contain the emotions flaring within her. The Rhys before her was not only not sentient, but also “sleeping”—physically incapable of detecting her presence altogether—yet she could not bring herself to cry before him.

This couldn’t continue. It was torture. A self-inflicted hell for a self-inflicted demon spawn that manifested itself as a cozy inn within a simple town.

She crumpled up her newly-created universe like a sheet of paper that had failed her. Once it was small enough to fit within her palm, she closed her fist around it, erasing the matter from existence. This would prove to have extinction-level consequences for the neighboring universes, but Rhea didn’t care, as none of those universes housed Rhys.

A life without Rhys—the real Rhys—that was not a life she wanted to live. And it was not a life she could simply terminate whenever she pleased. She had been given a taste of ecstasy, ambrosia too powerful for the gods themselves. A mere sip of it had driven her mad and mad she would remain for the infinity that was her lifespan, even after the universe had fizzled out and all concepts known and unknown were distorted beyond recognizability. When even time itself became a shadow of its former self, unable to be properly comprehended through written text in a meaningfully interesting way, she would remain, as would the haunting specter that was her time with this silly little mortal.

She needed to get Rhys back.

She needed a life with him as Rheamone again.

~

“Sir, I… don’t think I have change for coinage that significant.”

“Then keep the change,” replied a gruff voice, whose owner was shrouded within a hood. The ork girl behind the counter tensed up as his words crossed her ears—clearly, this man meant business. He seemed like a weathered old adventurer from the voice alone, not to mention the contents of his four-word response.

“Th-thank you for your patronage, then,” the lady stuttered, despite outsizing and out-muscling him on every front.

The man simply grunted in approval, before grabbing his equipment and leaving without another word. The blizzard outside was brutal, pelting him with all mother nature could offer. He braved the storm like no other, all so that the lesser-served communities of this new town could have food for this neverending winter.

“Th-thank you, kind hero,” came an old, weathered woman; her wrinkled, shaking hands barely able to keep the hot soup within the bowl given to her. “After our kingdom was devastated, we had no choice but to hold up here. But the heroes’ guild hired by the king never came for us! We can’t care for the sickly and young under these conditions!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do what I can,” the man replied. Perhaps it was for the best that his robe hid his face, as it would reveal the guilt of the man who helped orchestrate the very displacement of these poor, impoverished citizens. This man was Rhys.

The adventurer’s lip quivered, though not from the bitter cold as he stepped back into it. To him, summoning Rheamone had directly led to the destruction of that kingdom. All because of his selfish desire to become “more powerful.” The warning signs were all there, and he had willfully ignored them.

And yet… god, he missed her so very much. If there was only some way he could guarantee the safety of these townspeople and revive the dead, then he’d get back with her in a heartbeat, morals be damned!

“So, you’re looking for a way to guarantee the safety of those townspeople and revive the dead, are you?” came a raspy feminine voice, putting vocals to his exact thoughts. He looked upwards, only to see an out-of-place robed figure standing out in the middle of the tundra. Despite the oppressive winds, her voice was clear as day, its audio somehow existing atop everything else to feed directly into his ears.

“I’m not looking for any tricks right now, witch. Leave.” Rhys replied, not willing to even entertain the idea. His gaze fell back to the ground as he continued his trek through the freezing cold.

“P-please, I assure you. There are no tricks here!” she replied. “I simply want to help these people, same as you!”

More witch trickery, Rhys immediately assumed. How gullible did she think he was? Yet as he continued to walk, he mulled over her words more and realized something didn’t add up. She sounded… desperate. He could read it in her voice. It was the repressed desperation that someone trying to hide years of devastating regret would leak out into their tone. Perhaps this was more than a trick after all.

He paused and turned around, staring at this witch intently, going for a second round of trying to read her vibe.

“Tell me, witch, do you need my services as a legendary hero to find some ancient artifact so that we may reverse this horrid act that we are both guilty for?”

Reality suddenly paused. That was… not the angle Rhea was initially aiming for. She was going to use this witch character simply as a conduit to send Rhys down a carefully-constructed path of her creation, one that would feel satisfying from a narrative perspective while also redeeming Rheamone in her eyes. But she had let her desperation seep through her speech—even after rehearsing it ad nauseum across never-ending realities. She had no trouble with the practice Rhyses, how come this was so hard?

Although, this could be used to her advantage yet. He didn’t seem interested until he detected that desperation within her. A hint of humanity within the fathomless recesses of Rhea’s godhood. She’d have to restructure the quest a bit to account for this sympathetic witch character who was now a part of it, but she might just be able to pull this off yet!

“Yes! Yes I do! Oh, I need your services, legendary hero! Only together can we redeem ourselves!”

Rhea then realized she was getting somewhat ahead of herself, unpausing reality first before repeating her plea for help.

“Ourselves?” Rhys replied, remaining on guard. “What guilt do you bring to the destruction of this castle?”

“I was the one who first discovered the ritual to summon that demon,” the witch said, Rhea making up a new backstory on the spot. “I allowed her summoning ceremony to be recorded for future use, therefore any destruction spurred on by Rheamone is my responsibility.”

That appeared to work, Rhys’ tense expression eased up a bit, as did the grip on his sword. “Perhaps we should discuss this further in a warmer area, wouldn’t you agree?”

Rhea utilized enough energy to power a chunk of the infinite multiverse to restrain the giddy smile that threatened to bloom on her face.

~

“Alright… you don’t have to squeeze my arm that tightly.”

“Sorry! Sorry…”

“If you’re cold, I can always put the kettle on.”

“No, no… I’m fine. I feel warmer now.”

Rhea had never experienced an awkward silence before. She had always imagined that it would suck based on the observable data she had at her disposal. It did.

Having Rhys next to her, by her side once more… it was hard to not cuddle him. Even though she had engaged in mind-melting sex with hundreds of other adventurers and clones of Rhys over the past year, nothing even began to compare to the euphoric touch of his skin.

She didn’t care about his sculpted musculature, though it was a nice bonus. This was skin that represented history. A comforting perfection she hadn’t known until those fateful nights with Rhys. She could’ve just stretched that moment out for an eternity, but that would only be half of the puzzle. Rhea knew she wouldn’t be completely satisfied until Rhys was also happy.

This latest adventure needed to go off without a hitch.

“Anyways, let me describe exactly what we’re looking for here.” Rhea-witch reached into her side satchel and retrieved a map, altering its contents within the seconds of her laying it down on the table for Rhys to see. “We need to travel to the far edges of the earth, near the entrance of the god’s domain.”

“So that’s what’s out there…” Rhys said, a sense of curious whimsy breaking through his cold exterior. “That’s why you need me then, gods and their ilk are no easy adversaries to overcome.”

“Precisely,” replied the witch, reining in her excitement once more. An adventure with just the two of them! It was really happening!

“Well then, let us make haste! What exactly are we looking for?”

Rhea pointed to a spot directly in the middle of the map. “Around here is rumored to be a staff of ultimate underworld power, one that can command demons of hell to do one’s bidding unconditionally.”

Rhys’ eyes lit up—the offer most definitely enticing to him. Rhea took a cheeky little peek into the adventurer’s brain to see what his thoughts were truly, pleased with what she witnessed.

With this… I could undo Rheamone’s most primal urges. She could make amends for all she’s done. Maybe even, we could live happily together once more.

They were on the road faster than expected, Rhys proving that he was no slouch in the magic department. From a standstill, he managed to cast a warping spell that traversed the two of them all the way to the ends of the earths. In all her millennia of godhood, Rhea had never witnessed a mere human teleport across such vast tracts of land in mere seconds, let alone with someone else along for the ride. That boost Rhea had given Rhys a year ago left him quite the formidable warrior. He was simply on another level.

The adventurer and the witch stood before their destination, a surreal blend of heaven and earth. The ground seamlessly shifted into a labyrinthine cloud layer, as blinding sunlight cast a foreboding halo over the lands, both calling to adventure for the brave and dissuading it for the weak.

Rhys wasted no time with awe, retaining a determined stride as he marched headfirst into the unknown. Rhea followed in tow, more confident that her plan would be a surefire success. To sweeten the deal even farther, Rhys didn’t need all that much help. Sure, Rhea was willing to tilt the odds in his favor subtly as to not reveal her hand, but he was trekking along just fine.

Horrifying creatures designed to keep the mortals segregated from the gods were effortlessly slain as Rhys tore through their tough hides like melted butter. A cerberus-like creature was around every corner, yet Rhys never seemed to tire or back down. His inherent tenacity combined with upgraded weaponry from Rhea herself made him a devastating one-man army.

As he sliced and diced, Rhea was pulling the strings in the background. The three demigods managing this domain, ones who could effortlessly erase Rhys from existence, bowed in the presence of Rhea as she split off from her main form to meet up with them ahead.

“Mother Rhea, what shall we do about this miscreant?” The largest and strongest of the demigods spoke, a massive mountainous man with a beard the size of a backyard. “He is slaughtering our pets. Do you come with special guidance on how to stop him?”

“Oh do not worry, my loyal children,” Rhea spoke with a soft, reassuring voice. “All you need to do is give him a good fight yet ultimately die for him.”

“M-mother? What do you mean by this? Are you being vague? Is this to teach us a lesson?” The three demigods debated amongst themselves about what her true intentions could be, though none of them even suspected that it could be she was just depressingly horny.

“There is nothing more I mean by this,” Rhea reassured, knowing that they would follow her orders as she was their creator.  “You have served this outworld well. Now it is time for you to fulfill your ultimate purpose—which is to perish at the hands of a legendary hero.”

But being alone in this realm for trillions of years had instilled within them a sense of independence.

“Oh yeah? And what makes him so legendary?” one replied angrily.

“I quite enjoy my life!” another shouted, raising his weapon.

“SILENCE.” Rhea commanded, and they responded accordingly. She then reminded her subordinates why she was the ruler of everything that ever was and ever will be. She flashed their entire lives in front of their eyes, showing how she could effortlessly erase every memory they ever had and return them to the mindless guards they were designed to be.

Begrudgingly accepting their fates, the three colossi assumed their positions around a small pillar Rhea erected from the ground. Atop it was a staff big enough for a human to wield, its crimson wood handle bore an unusually yellow gem encrusted within its tip. It had the vibe of a demonic artifact, one that would hopefully trick Rhys into the outcome she desired. She didn’t act upon her threat, after all, she needed the ensuing fight to be as realistic as possible.

Rhys may have been more well-traveled than he was a year ago, but an artifact guarded by three skyscraper-sized demigods would most certainly fall within the realm of plausibility for its supposed power output.

Sure enough, Rhys’ suspension of disbelief was maintained. Once he arrived at the center of the labyrinth where the demigods were, he knew this was the end of his quest.

“Find a safe place to hide, witch. I’ll handle these creatures myself,” Rhys spoke confidently, drawing his sword and readying himself for a brutal fight. Witch-Rhea stepped back in accordance with his suggestions, though true Rhea would not allow herself to be so passive in this fight. She physically altered Rhys’ stats, giving him a 99.9% resistance to demigod attacks and a 99.9% damage bonus to demigods with any attack of his own.

Even with these insane percentages, it was no easy fight. Both parties were equally motivated to win. The demigods had their lives on the line and Rhys had love on his mind.

Rhys found himself struggling at the beginning, the three colossi overwhelming him with their sheer size and coverage. But after some precise strikes and quick thinking, the tables were turned.

“Yeah Rhys! You got this!” witch-Rhea shouted from the sidelines after the adventurer successfully managed to down one of the demigods, slicing at his leg until the creature fell to the ground, where a precise strike to his throat finished the job.

No longer able to overwhelm Rhys with attacks, the second colossus quickly fell afterwards. Rhys cast a powerful blast of lightning magic, one which fried his adversary far more effectively due to how close to the cloud layer the demigod’s head already was.

Now all that remained was the mid-sized giant. While his size was the perfect median to prevent the previous two methods of defeat that felled his brothers, his lack of allies and decreased resolve meant that he wasn’t going to stand a chance against Rhys.

The overpowered adventurer brutally slaughtered him like the rest, knocking a marble pillar down only to strike the blunt side of it with a magic blast of compressed air that launched it directly into the giant’s chest. The magically-enforced marble tore right through his heart and out the other end through his back. The creature collapsed onto his side, a river of blood pouring out of his mouth.

“You’ve been decei-“ the last demigod attempted to speak, however he was cut short when his lungs, tracheae and vocal cords sporadically vanished from his body.

Unfortunately for Rhea, she could detect a small amount of doubt appear within Rhys’ brain. She bit her lip with tension as the hesitant adventurer walked over and reached for the mystical staff, only to stop right as his hand was mere inches from it. This pause lasted for but a moment, as Rhys suddenly drew his sword from its sheath, pointing the tip of the blade mere inches away from witch-Rhea’s face.

“Witch, I command you to be honest with me. What did you make me do just to obtain this weapon?”

Despite being the most powerful goddess in existence, known or otherwise, Rhea found herself stuttering to try and form a response.

“It’s— the weapon you need! Honest!”

“That wasn’t my question, witch,” his tone increased in ferocity, inching the blade ever-closer to Rhea’s nose. “Why did that final creature attempt to say that I have been deceived? What are you hiding from me?”

Rhea didn’t want to outright lie to Rhys. She found it near impossible to contain herself in a face-on-face encounter when tension arose. The goddess of all simply had too much to lose. There was this feeling welling up inside of her… anxiety seemed to be the best word for it. It was never an experience that came to her naturally, and yet she found herself plagued with galactic amounts of stress as she stared down the blade of her former lover.

The witch’s forlorn face fell, eyes meeting her toes as she slowly transmuted back into her ‘true’ form. Unable to convince herself of any new lies, she defaulted upon the one she had been living as for the past year. The baggy clothing that hid much of her body morphed into that familiar mage suit, horns tearing out of her cranium and a tail popping out of its hiding place with exaggerated emphasis as if it needed to breathe.

Rhea didn’t even intentionally add that last detail. It just felt natural for her to bare a demon’s aesthetics. Rhys on the other hand was not so pleased to see them.

“Rheamone!?” Rhys spoke, dropping his sword immediately at the sight of his former lover. His face was twisted with confusion and sorrow, unable to make sense of what he knew must be the truth. “You… you deceived me?”

Rhea couldn’t bring herself to respond further, tears welling up in her eyes at the sight of his similar reaction.

“You led me down the path just to get this staff… why? So you could love me again consequence-free? Does the staff even work? Were you just wasting my time as those you displace suffer needlessly?”

“Rhys, please!” Rhea begged, her demon form falling to its hands and knees from a midair float. “I-I just wanted to be better! I wanted you to love me again like I know you do!”

“But you’re a demon,” was his response, ending the conversation right then and there. “Demons don’t change. They exist to trick and deceive. This—this is just another trick on your part.”

Those words left his mouth like an automated response. In his heart of hearts he didn’t want to believe they were true, but he was right. As long as Rhea kept up this demonic lie, that was forever how he would see her.

But the lie was easy. Far easier than admitting that the creator of everything Rhys knew had a big, stupid crush on him and that she had gone through great lengths to keep up a lie in a stupid attempt to make herself happy.

Here she was, an omnipotent, omnipresent being, falling for the sunk-cost fallacy like any human would.

Rheamone deserved his love. In this carefully-crafted narrative she was a demon who discovered genuine affection and desired desperately to overcome her deep-rooted yearns for deception by any means necessary. Rheamone was tragic—Rhea was just pathetic.

She transcended all, there was simply nothing above her nor could there ever be. Infinity peaked with her. Yet here she was, unable to lie to a mere human. The lowest of the low, the bottom end of complex consciousness within the multiverse. Even humans could lie to other humans. Hell, they were great at it even if stringing together a web of lies often led to dire consequences.

Rhea was left to further stew with these thoughts by her lonesome as Rhys teleported away from the area.

~

“Another,” came a slurred voice at the end of the bar, followed by a hiccup.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, buddy?” The bartender replied, raising a worried eyebrow at the man.

“I’ll have had enough when I run out of money,” the man drunkenly insisted, throwing some coinage atop the bar. “Another.”

The bartender did as he was told, filling another pint up to the top from the spout. He slid it down the wood and the man caught it with a firm grip, before downing it all in one uninterrupted chug. A then paused to groan softly, his half-lidded eyes threatening to collapse.

“Alright buddy, I gotta know. What’s your story?” the bartender asked, appearing cordial. “You show up in my bar with some of the most insane gear and aura I’ve ever seen in my life and then proceed to drink a pint a minute.”

“I’m not your buddy, buddy,” the man replied, too drunk to form a proper coherent retort. “I’m Rhys. If you’re gunna *hic* call me something, it’s gunna be that.”

“Okay then, Rhys,” the man emphasized, playing along. “So what brings you to my bar, then?”

Rhys unleashed a tired groan, not wanting to answer. After having just been deceived, he wasn’t about to start opening his heart to just anyone.

“Look, if there’s one thing I know about people down in the dumps like you, is that talking about your feelings is a surefire way to make you feel better.”

“Well, *hic* I suppose so…” he hunched over the bar, resting his forehead on his hand in a mix of drunkenness and shame. “Ran into an old fling of mine. She was trying to trick me into getting back with her. I knew demons were powerful, but this was some *hic* next-level stuff. I mean, a staff that controlled the underworld? Probably didn’t even work.”

“You had fallen in love with a demon? Are you sure? They’re usually not ones to love.”

“Yes, I had. *Hic* burn me at the stake if you want, I don’t care anymore.”

The bartender laughed at the absurdity before realizing just how serious Rhys sounded. “H-hey fella, don’t beat yourself up about it! The fact that you managed to even score with a demon was pretty impressive! I’ve never heard that happen before!”

“*Hic* what do you mean?” Rhys’ eyes actually left the wood of the bar to look at the person talking to him.

“Well, all the legends say that demons are only motivated by trickery. Yet this demon seemed to actually love you. Sure, it may have been through trickery, but it seemed like she genuinely wanted to make amends for what she had done. If you ask me, that doesn’t sound like a typical demon's motivation. Maybe she was really wooed by your charms or something.”

Rhys then looked away, unconvinced. “Pfft, yeah right. *Hic* I might’ve believed that line of reasoning a year ago when I was stupid and naïve, but now that I’m well-traveled, that just sounds like a load of bullshit.”

“FUUUUUUUCK!” Rhea screamed from twenty dimensions over, watching as Rhys dismissed her perfectly setup chance for a self-revelation on his part. She had workshopped it and personally replaced that entire bar and surrounding areas with puppeted humans that spoke only her words so there would be no interruptions between the staged bartender conversation, only for him to remain unconvinced.

Her enraged voice tore through reality itself, reducing all nearby universes down to their atomic makeups. Needing to direct the immediate rage of her failure towards something, she punched the nearest alternate universe, making sure to aim the punch in the opposite direction of where Rhys was. The cause and effect of that punch stretched on infinitely, decimating all that was behind her yet ultimately forgotten about as soon as Rhea turned back around to focus her attention back to what really mattered.

“Ugh, fine, looks like I’ll have to switch to plan B.”

Rhea sped up time until Rhys had passed out at the bar, allowing the bartender and several other puppetted people to carry him to the nearest bed for a proper rest. Once he was properly tucked in and snug, Rhea touched down back on earth. She watched over him much like she had when they first shared a night together, only this time, she was not Rheamone. If he were to wake up at any moment, he’d see the omnipotent goddess of all staring down at him with a loving smile. If only he knew how madly in love I was with him. Not as a demon, but as a goddess. Maybe, things could be different.

No! This was no time to become sentimental! She had a job to do! A goal to achieve! The longer she spent staring at Rhys, the more distracted she’d become. Rhys’ existence on this earth was finite and she was wasting precious seconds of what could be future cuddle time!

She reduced her body down to its most basic form—a brain synapse. Of course, being basic didn’t mean that her infinite power was any less infinite. The floating microscopic strand of neurons descended into Rhys’ mind, inserting itself within his visual cortex undetected.

Within his mind, Rhys was having a wonderful dream. He was on the lamb as a carefree adventurer, no longer concerned with trivialities such as helping a displaced nation. Whatever inconsistencies with reality that were present, how he could turn around and immediately be deep within a massive dungeon, did not phase him in the slightest. Much like a movie that Rhea had already watched despite it being thousands of years in the future and trillions of universes away from this one, Rhys was at a heightened state of vulnerability here.

Embedded deep within his neocortex, Rhea emerged within Rhys’ dream as Rheamone. She appeared before him in the dungeon, the goddess’ excitement rising when Rhys reacted with elation.

“Rheamone! Oh thank goodness you’re here!” Rhys exclaimed, exhilarated to see his most trusted ally. “I seem to be lost in this deep, dank dungeon! Oh, you’ll help me, won’t you!?”

“Y-yes, Rhys! I would be delighted to help you on your quest!” Rhea replied, on the verge of tears. She never thought she’d ever hear a series of exclamations like those exit Rhys’ mouth. The witch-Rhea adventure wished it could be as immersive as this one.

The sprawling dungeon generated all amounts of strange creatures, all of which were effortlessly overcome by Rheamone. A strange memory-fusion of a dragon’s head, a black knight’s armor and a cerberus’ body seemed to be the most recurring creature of the bunch, never seemed to quite go away—even as Rhea and Rhys thought of new and creative ways to take it out.

They proved to be quite the dynamic duo. With Rhea as a support damage dealer and Rhys as the valiant yet deadly spelunker, the two were finally the dream team Rhys had always wanted all the way back when they first met. The idea of screwing with Rhys wasn’t even a blip on Rhea’s radar, she simply reveled in the bliss of them solving a surreal dungeon together.

Rhea had never dreamed before. She didn’t need to sleep, but even if she wanted to, dreams would not come naturally to her. Dreams were a flaw of the mind, and Rhea’s form had no flaws. Despite this, exploration of Rhys’ dreams was proving to be the most amount of fun she had ever had in her infinite life.

It was like a greatest hits album randomly mashed around into brand new tracks, each twist and turn of the labyrinthian dungeon providing new surprising secrets. Human minds were often predictable, Rhys’ was still anything but.

“I think we’re almost near the end of this dungeon, Rhea!” exclaimed the dreaming adventurer, somehow making sense of the senseless. Sure enough, turning the nearest left revealed the prize of the labyrinth—a massive, glowing treasure chest.

A hopeful, genuine smile grew upon Rhea’s face. This dream adventure had been simple, textbook even in its execution, and yet Rhea had never been more delighted to see a generically-designed treasure chest awaiting those who sought it. Rhys was happy. And when Rhys was happy, Rhea was happy.

The happiness turned into mild annoyance for Rhea when this dream pulled another common trope out of the book. Burrowing up from somewhere underground, the dragon-knight-Cerberus reared its big, ugly heads, creating a barrier between the treasure and its seekers.

“Ugh, this guy again,” Rhea remarked with an eye roll. “Stand aside, Rhys. I’ll make sure this creature never comes back.”

The theatrics of Rheamone’s followup attack suggested some sort of massive fiery blast, but the actual attack was simply removing this creature’s existence from Rhys’ memory. It should have been easy. It should have been easier than easy. It wasn’t even a real creature composed of actual matter and atoms, it was merely a figment of Rhys’ imagination.

And yet when the smoke cleared from Rhea’s beam of pure fire and brimstone, the creature remained, ultimately unscathed.

Confused, Rhea opened fire again, assuming she had just made another silly little mistake due to being so infatuated with Rhys. Once more, the creature remained. Its dragon heads almost seemed to imitate a coy smile of sorts, as if it expected futility on Rhea’s part from the beginning.

“Wh-why isn’t it working!?” the goddess sputtered, dumbfounded at the first actual threat to her power as long as the multiverse had existed.

“What’s wrong, Rheamone? Finally encountered something you can’t brute force your way through?” the creature taunted, putting extra emphasis on her name as if it knew her name was a fake, threatening to reveal the demon’s true identity to her lover. A chill was sent down Rhea’s spine as it spoke. For the first time since the multiverse was conceived, the goddess of everything experienced true fear and terror.

“Because if there’s one thing you can’t destroy, it’s yourself.”

“Rheamone, what’s going on?” asked a worried Rhys. He sounded like a unsure child, his dream no longer an adventurous stroll as sinister undertones seeped into his unconscious dreamscape.

“I-I don’t know!” Rhea replied, knowing the answer yet not wanting to believe it was true.

The old, incompetent circuits of this mere mortal’s mind were turning against Rhea, warping her carefully constructed fantasy into a chaotic nightmare. But this wasn’t Rhys’ nightmare—it was Rhea’s.

The two intrepid adventurers watched in horror for different reasons as the amalgamous entity added another creature to its form. Replacing the main dragon head of the Cerberus’ neck was that of Rheamone’s visage, though noticeably more distorted in nature.

This “duplicate” depiction of Rheamone resembled that of a child’s traumatized wall scribbles, her facial features exaggerated as to extract as much fear out of the viewer as possible—no doubt a reflection of the myriadic depictions of Rheamone from the displaced populations Rhys had dedicated his time to care for.

Rhea tried everything, only to achieve nothing. None of her mad grasps at reclaiming the pleasant dream seemed to work. It was as if she were in a nightmare where she showed up to school in her underwear and was unable to rectify this situation with a pair of pants. Her own body was simply not obeying her commands.

The Rheamone distortion unfurled her massive tongue like a chameleon, swiping up Rhys in one swift motion.

“RHYS NO!” Rhea cried out, devastated at the sight of her one true love being attacked with her powerless to stop it. The crude Rheamone head laughed at the sight of Rhea’s patheticness, her voice unimpeded by her outstretched tongue coiled around Rhys.

“This is what you deserve, pitiful goddess,” the nightmare chimera spoke, as if lecturing a failing student. “Your inability to be honest with a creature so far beneath you is your undoing!”

Rhys had no clue what the amalgamation meant by any of that, nor was he really in the headspace to consider such implications, as he was terrified out of his mind. It was simply a piece of information that lingered in the depths of his thoughts for now.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Rhea shouted at her own corrupted head, unable to think of a good retort. She’s losing a battle of attrition against herself, and both halves know it all too well.

With a large, crooked smile, the distorted Rheamone beast did the unthinkable—she opened her jaw wide and flung Rhys into her mouth. Rhea watched in horror as her lover was gruesomely ground to bits, each separation of the teeth showing every stage of his death. The goddess of all could only watch, her face twisted in disgust from the brutality. How did things get this bad? How did—

Rhea awoke with a startle, back into her prime form in the heavens of heavens above. She had spent so long inhabiting her human-like vessel that she was almost unfamiliar with the sensations of her original body upon “waking up.” While little more than scattered atoms within heavenly light forming a complex, omnipotent consciousness, Rhea was now back in control.

In one fell motion, she reformed her humanoid goddess body and used it to burrow into the depths of hell itself. None of this would have happened if Rhys—and by extension humanity—didn’t fear demons. Rhea reasoned with herself, leaving a path of destruction in her wake. If Rheamone wasn’t immediately seen as some unthinking threat, then I wouldn’t have been so disgustingly humiliated by a mere nightmare back there!

Even Rhea knew her logic was flawed at this point, but she didn’t care anymore. Someone needed to take the fall for this blunder. It wasn’t going to be Rhea, and it certainly wasn’t going to be Rhys. There was only one proper scapegoat left—and he was already dead.

“YOU STUPID FUCK!” Rhea shouted at the top of her lungs, bringing the devil she had killed a year ago back to life, only to beat him to death with her own hands. “WHY. DID. YOU. HAVE. TO. BE. SO. UN. TRUST. WORTHY!?”

With every word, another heavenly fist pounded his face into a fine pulp. Even with restraining herself to a trillionth of a trillionth of her strength over the course of her barrage, the devil was already dead after the first punch.

Hell shattered and reconstructed itself, though not perfectly. As did the universe. As did reality. All were inherently beholden to Rhea’s whims and she was actively losing more and more of her sanity. Existence was a well-oiled machine of Rhea’s creation, one complex enough that it could hypothetically exist without her, and yet she was actively stripping features from it in her rage.

She simply didn’t want to consider hell right now. The world was cruel, the world was contradictory to her interests… and the world was of her creation. Frustrated and depressed, Rhea wanted to be left alone, unsure of herself even as the most powerful creature in all of existence. Unfortunately, this time she wouldn’t get the chance to be alone—hell was no more. Billions of years worth of souls, erased in an instant without a second thought, that created a noticeable absence.

Other gods came to her aid—lesser gods. Ones that did not deserve capitalization of their titles. They were concerned with Rhea, and their sympathetic curiosity was rewarded with erasure from existence. Swarths of nigh-omnipotent beings, effaced instantly for the unthinkable crime of wanting to help their mother through a stressful time in her life and a bad nightmare.

Her uncaring removals extended outward interminably; deleting gods, demi-gods, friends of gods, worshippers of gods, friends of worshippers of gods, and even some atheists. Rhea’s negligent destruction of fundamental building blocks brought about even more devastation as various physics were left unattended to—most notably, the ability to pause reality. Sure, Rhea remained the ultimate authority, able to take control of physics to use as she pleased, but her mind was rather occupied at the moment.

Reality suddenly unpaused, creating a jarring shift as Rhys was suddenly exposed to the underbelly of the machine. Volcanoes erupted as the heat god was no longer present to regulate spikes in core temperature, the wind around him glitched and sputtered as the position of “air god” was now a vacant slot. The bar he was resting within had long since vanished, a patch of dirt serving as a rude awakening for him as he awoke from a strange nightmare he forgot as soon as it had passed. Not even a minor hangover could distract him from the sheer insanity before him. If anything, it sobered him up immediately.

Rhys’ first thought was to get the hell out of here, only to immediately find out that he couldn’t. His teleportation magic wasn’t responding. None of his magic was. He reached for his fully-upgraded sword, hoping to use it as a makeshift conduit to generate some sort of escape route. All that was in its holster was scattered ash. It was as if his year of experience had vanished in an instant, along with all the gear that reflected his growth.

Left with only an empty scabbard and his wits, Rhys had no choice but to confront the obstacle in front of him—a rapidly crumbling universe with a beautiful woman crying in the center of the chaos. What was going on? What caused all this? He had no idea. All he knew was that there was a person in distress, and he as a noble adventurer needed to help them.

He found footholds wherever he could, leaping from floating rock to floating rock as gravity changed and warped by the second. Sometimes he’d be floating in midair, other times he’d be falling upwards. But no matter what obstacles got in his way, he didn’t give up. Even as corpses of gods began raining from the sky, or as the day and night cycles began to speed up to a vomit-inducing frequency, or even as his whole existence became shattered and reformed like a stained glass window.

Nothing could stop his determination.

Leaping into the center of the chaos, Rhys managed to just barely grab hold of the floating landmass that held the crying woman atop it. Nearly losing his grip twice, he eventually used the loose roots to pull himself up, only to be greeted with a startling optical illusion. This woman was ten feet tall! She certainly didn’t look that large from far away!

Regardless of her unusual stature and the disfigurement of reality around them, Rhys proceeded to act like the innocent adventurer he always was at heart. “Um, lady? Are you okay?”

The casualness of the words, the soothing familiarity…. Even in her darkest hour, Rhea could not help but be fascinated by Rhys’ sheer idiosyncratic nature. It was… comforting to her. Just when she thought she had the world all figured out, here was this mere human that always managed to surprise her in the most pleasant of ways. He didn’t even seem to notice that she was literally the goddess of everything.

But as Rhea turned to face him, her heavenly aura becoming far more vibrant and colorful, Rhys began to piece it all together. “You’re… Rhea.”

Rhea could only manage a meager nod to confirm his declaration, not wanting to lie to Rhys anymore but believing firmly that doing so would ruin her relationship with him forever. If he didn’t reject her outright, he’d become a hopeless worshiper of her, as did the rest. Rhea braced herself for the inevitable—but it never came.

Instead, Rhys continued talking with her as if she were a regular person. “Did something happen, Rhea? What’s got you so sad that reality’s falling apart?”

A surprisingly astute observation in all the wrong places, once more Rhea was broken from her tears. Moreover, Rhys seemed genuinely worried about the mental state of this goddess who was so impossibly above him that infinity fell short in quantifying her.

Once more, Rhea couldn’t bring herself to lie to Rhys, nor could she justify an answer as simple as a head nod. This plucky little adventurer was going to find out the ugly truth about the last year of his life being a complete lie—how he’d react to that was completely up to him.

“I was the demon that loved you, Rhys. The one that wanted nothing more than to cuddle you and snuggle you and be by your side as you experienced the world through your own unique vision.” The tears were returning to Rhea’s eyes now, her eyes becoming puffy even though they didn’t need to.

“You mean… you, Rhea, the goddess of creation, were actually Rheamone this whole time!?” Rhys dumbfoundedly clarified, unaware of just how comedically obvious it sounded when acknowledged out loud. “That’s… well, I had my suspicions, but the names were so similar I thought it would be almost too obvious.”

“Yes! It was!” Rhea shouted, her voice blubbery as tears capable of ending entire universes through sheer velocity were caught in her throat. “I only came up with that name on the spot because I was… well, I really did love you. But… I was scared to admit that I was tricking you. This whole relationship was built on lies… and yet it was the best relationship I ever had in my endless existence.”

Rhys was silent for a moment, then he walked up and embraced Rhea’s taller form in the tightest hug he could muster. “That’s okay, Rhea. I really did love you too. God, demon or not, you came for me in my time of need and gave me an adventure. That’s all I could ever ask of you.”

“So… you’re not mad that I destroyed an entire kingdom?”

“Well, I am mad. I really thought all of those deaths back there were the unavoidable consequences of my own actions. I mean, the anniversary of Blackweld Keep’s destruction by your hands was just a week ago…”

He trailed off, noticing how upset Rhea was becoming.

“But you’re literally the goddess of everything, right? You can just bring everyone back to life if you really wanted to.” Rhys added as a silver lining. If anything… he was taking this insane life-changing revelation surprisingly well, even as the world around him collapsed into nothingness.

“Yes, I can bring everyone that Rheamone—er, that I killed back.” Rhea replied, guilt ridden in her voice as she admitted her wrongdoings. There was a bout of silence afterwards, Rhea unsure of her standing with Rhys. All she could do now was be transparent and ask.

“Does this mean you still want to be, um, in a relationship? Uh, with me?” She sniffled adorably, wiping the tears from her face.

“Of course I do!” Rhys replied, ever-enthusiastically. He then gripped both sides of her face—Rhea needing to dull her power in the split second she had to react so that he would not be reduced to ash on contact with her skin—and brought her larger form down into a lip-locked kiss. Her vibrant blonde hair fell in tassels around the two of them as her massive form began to slowly shrink, reducing more and more in volume until she was slightly shorter than him.

As she reduced herself, so did the chaos around her. An absent-minded thought on her part restored everything back to the way it should have been. All gods returned to their rightful place, all souls returned to the underworld, and the original ruler of hell was reinstated. Reality immediately fell back into place after that, the world returning to how it once was with only one major change: The Goddess Of Everything now had a loving human partner.

Only once everything was restored did Rhys and Rhea finally break the kiss, spending a serene moment to just gaze into each other’s eyes. Rhys had no clue how long that moment must’ve lasted, and for once, neither did Rhea. As the inventor of time itself, she was usually on top of exactly how much time passed at any given moment, even unconsciously. Yet this soulful gaze seemed to last simultaneously as an eternity and as a blip on the radar of her life. Despite knowing every word in every language that ever was or ever would be, she couldn’t quite find a sentence or even a phrase to describe how this moment made her feel. It was simply a moment that played out until its natural conclusion. No more, no less.

“Oh Rhea, I’m just so stoked to have you back in my life,” Rhys then admitted, returning to hug Rhea as he too found tears coming to his eyes. “You don’t know how much I missed having an adventuring partner as exciting as you!”

That made the edges of Rhea’s smile messily curl upward as she embraced his loving hug. He didn’t see her as the goddess of all that was and would ever be. He didn’t want to use her for power or influence. He simply wanted to live the most he could with his short life.

Once, Rhea was terrified that one day she’d wake up and he’d be gone, taken from this world just like any other human could. Sure, she could bring him back, even visit him in the afterlife if she wanted to. But that’s not what made Rhys special. He wasn’t a flame that burned forever. He was simply a firework that showed his unique beauty and extravagance before inevitably petering out into nothingness. And now she got to experience it without the shroud of deception.

Rhea wouldn’t have it any other way.

~

“Well, well, well… look who it is. Last I checked, we ran you outta our guild and subsequently this town three years ago,” spoke a gruff voice. Rhys looked up from the fruit vendor he was carefully inspecting to innocently acknowledge the presence of whoever was talking to him.

“Oh, was that this place? Sorry, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Rhys replied, trying to be as cordial as possible. “Look, I’m just passing by here on an adventure—not trying to join your guild or anything. That shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

The massive, barbaric human chuckled to himself, shaking his head with a “tsk, tsk, tsk.” Five other men of similar size and stature grouped up around him, their shadows all blocking the sun from where they stood.

“Listen here, runt. I don’t know how you’ve managed to live this long. You clearly can’t take a hint to save your life.” He brushed the chainmail over his trousers aside, revealing the concealed hilt of a devastatingly powerful blade. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to pay a fee to keep yourself alive, or we’ll see how well a pipsqueak like you fares in comba—”

“Rhys? Are those guys giving you trouble?” came a simple, feminine voice from the far end of the stalls.

All six of the men were drawn to the sound of the voice, with five of them nearly losing their minds in disbelief at who they saw. Skipping cheerfully up to greet her recently-married husband, a matching shiny golden ring proudly adorned on her finger, was the Goddess of Gods, the creator of all, the almighty of all might, the divine of the divine, the eternal of all infinites, the sacrosanct, the unimpeachable, the immutable, the unparalleled…

Rhea.

Merely thinking Her name brought all of the mighty men to their knees, their hands clasped in prayer as they begged for forgiveness—believing they had committed the reprehensible sin of merely existing within Her presence. But She paid them no mind. Her focus was squarely on Rhys.

She leapt into his arms, allowing him to catch her and spin her around for a full rotation before finally returning her to the ground. She was so caught up in the ecstasy of being loved that she nearly forgot to soften her landing, the ground near her dainty feet becoming briefly scorched as she touched back down upon it.

“No my love, they’re not troubling me at all. Merely old acquaintances whose guild resides in this area,” Rhys replied, stealing a cheeky kiss off of his omnipotent wife.

“Ah, well, that’s pleasant to hear. Because their minds reveal their true intentions to be… incompatible.” She looked down upon her pathetic worshipers with an icy stare. All five of the massive men held their breath in fear of godly retribution, yet none came.

“Lucky for you five, I trust my loving Rhys more than I trust my own mind these days.” Rhea punctuated her statement with a loving caress of her husband’s cheek. “So if he says you’re fine, then begone with you, before I change my mind.”

They did as they were told without hesitation, leaving the two lovebirds to purchase their wares from the stupefied fruit vendor in peace.

“I’m thinking about retiring to the inn early, what say you?” Rhys asked, a basket full of food by his side.

“I’m thinking I agree,” Rhea replied flirtatiously, flashing bedroom eyes as they played the innuendo game. “There’s going to be a long day of adventuring ahead of us tomorrow, after all.”

The two of them continued their trek to the inn to turn in for the night, paying no mind to the surreal stares of the town’s populace. Once the door was shut and the two of them were guaranteed the socially accepted allure of privacy, all undertones were brought to the forefront immediately.

Rhys stripped down to something more comfortable, knowing that Rhea was planning something special for their honeymoon, but unsure exactly as to what that special surprise would entail. When he stepped out of the bathroom to face his lover, what he saw turned his cheeks beet red.

“Oh Rhyyyys~” cooed a sultry voice, dripping with a demonic flair. “I’ve been a naughty, naughty demoness. Isn’t that right?”

Rhys’ breathing quickened as the short-yet-stacked form of Rheamone walked up to him, high heels clacking as a set of fishnet stockings barely managed to contain her devilishly delicious thighs that jiggled relentlessly.

“That’s right, Rheamone, y-you have,” Rhys played along to the best of his ability, his eager mind overwhelmed after being assaulted on all sides from the perfection that was Rheamone’s form. “But I, the noble adventurer Rhys, am here to redeem you!”

She laughed at Rhys’ look of trepidation, her hand dropping from his arm to brush against the bulge in his underwear. “Oh really… and how do you plan on doing that, my overambitious warrior?” Her other hand rose to his broad, muscular chest, and she extended a pinkie, pushing it into his sculpted pecs to send him spiraling across the room and onto the bed. In a flash, she was atop him, her painfully thick thighs wrapped around his head for a devastating headlock.

Even after a year of rugged questing under his belt, which had left him with quite the musculature, he simply couldn’t budge Rheamone. Her soft, impish demeanor was simply too overwhelming for even the overleveled adventurer to handle.

“Oh Rhysie, I’m afraid your adventure comes to an end here,” she taunted lovingly, threatening to send him to the afterlife early with a simple squeeze of her legs. “I’m afraid that as a demon, there is simply no meaningful way to redeem me. I am simply an evil trickster, no more.”

“But what if we were to ask the devil himself? Perhaps we could convince him to change your nature?” Rhys pleaded somewhat unconvincingly. He wasn’t as seasoned of an actor as Rhea was.

Rhea shot Rhys a look. One that said “now’s the part where we travel to the underworld to kick the devil out of his castle and fuck atop the throne.”

Rhys shot Rhea a look back, one that said “that sounds like an adventure I’ll never forget.”