There's nothing more bizarre than waking up with a strange girl in your bed. I lie perfectly still, waiting to see if last night's fever dream of pact-making, holy swords, and pint-sized Gods will evaporate under the sober light of day.
No such luck. The golden-haired girl is definitely real, and still clinging to my side like a baby monkey. Across the room, the Demon's enormous four-poster bed sits empty, its sheets in disarray and its owner nowhere to be seen. That probably means she's out torturing some other poor soul, which gives me, at most, an hour before she returns and the daily humiliation parade resumes.
I try to untangle myself, but the girl's grip is unyielding. She looks even younger in daylight, her cheeks smushed against my arm, her small nose squished flat.
"You're really here?" I manage to ask. "How is this even possible?"
"Of course! Pact partners are always together!" She sits up, and I am reminded yet again of how naked she is. She doesn't seem to care.
"Do you, uh, have any clothes?" I ask, glancing away awkwardly.
She blinks, her gaze slowly travelling down her own body as if just realizing her lack of attire. "Oh right…Clothes…That's what I forgot…Oh well, I can just take one of yours!"
Before I can object, she's already pawing through my pathetic stash of belongings. She pulls a shirt over her head, and it instantly sags to her knees. The sleeves are so long she can barely find her hands. She looks like a child cosplaying as a scarecrow.
"Perfect!" she beams, and I'm left wondering what kind of definition 'perfect' has in her dictionary.
"You look like you're being eaten alive by laundry," I mumble. "But fine. Just—stay close, and for the love of everything, don't let anyone see you."
She flops onto the mat next to me, still wearing that carefree smile, then lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now that you're awake, we can make our plan."
"What plan?" I reply.
"World domination!" she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the universe.
Of course.
"Okay, slow down," I tell her, holding up a hand. "Can you…explain, slowly, what is going on? You show up in my dreams, now you're here in real life. Are you real? Am I real? Is this some kind of extended Demon torture?"
She giggles and tugs on her sleeve until her hand pops out. "It's simple! You and I made a Pact! Now we're bonded forever!"
I stare at her blankly.
"Pact," I repeat, remembering that I did agree to something like that yesterday. "What does that even mean?"
She blinks twice, then cocks her head as if surprised I haven't read the manual. "Hmm…Where do I start…?"
She paces around the room, eyebrows scrunched in deep thought.
"Okay, so you know what Demons are, right?" She begins, and I nod.
"I'm a little more familiar with them than I would like," I say.
"Well, what if I told you Demons used to all be humans just like yourself?" Poly continues, flashing me a cheeky grin. "In fact, all the dominant races in this world used to be humans."
I rub my eyes. "So Demons used to be humans? And not just that, every single race used to be?"
"Yup! Every single one!" She starts ticking off her fingers, sleeve dangling. "The Demons, the Elves, the Beastfolk, the Merfolk, the Valkyries—everyone."
I stare at the dust motes drifting in the light from the window. If this is true, it's the kind of bombshell that would blow every historian's head off.
"Humans used to be everywhere in Mistolf, you know? Entire kingdoms, cities, continents filled with them," Poly elaborates, "but one day, Gods came and made Pacts with many of them, granting them power, magic and much larger and stronger forms, creating the five major races that rule the world today. Too bad for you, that also means you normal humans go straight to the bottom of the pecking order, and now you guys live in scattered settlements and struggle for your lives on a daily basis."
I lower my head, recalling the harsh life back in the enclave, living in constant fear of being discovered by beings much larger than us. Now, I finally have some clarity as to what caused all this inequality in the world.
I think of Lady Vespera, her immense stature, her booming voice, her ability to reduce me to a quivering mess with one glance. "Wait a minute…If I'm part of a Pact now, does that mean I'll become bigger and stronger just like the Demons?"
"Nope! Even better!" Poly practically shouts, her small body brimming with excitement. "You get to wield the holy sword, Soul-Sucking Excalibur!"
I frown, slightly disappointed. But then I remember the sword from my dream—gleaming blade, burning with holy fire, a weapon worthy of legends. Well, getting a legendary weapon as consolation isn't that bad I guess.
"Come on!" Poly urges me, "summon it now!"
"Summon it?" I ask, glancing at my empty hands. "How?"
"Just think really hard about the sword," she instructs, "then stretch out your hand and feel yourself gripping the handle."
I close my eyes, try to imagine the blade from my dream. It's like focusing on a half-remembered song: the details slip away as soon as I try to grab them. I picture the hilt, the runes, the way the air seemed to vibrate around it.
Then, something heavy and cold manifests in my hand.
I open my eyes. The sword is here. Except it's not what I expected.
Instead of a radiant, mighty weapon, I'm holding what looks like the world's least impressive letter opener. The blade is dull, barely a meter long, and the hilt is wrapped in tattered leather. A faint pink rune is etched near the guard, but it looks like someone drew it on with a crayon.
I stare at it. The sword does not sing. It doesn't even hum. It's just…there. Awkward, a little bent, and weirdly sticky.
Poly claps her hands anyway. "Wow! You did it! I knew you'd be a natural!"
I look at her, then the sword, then back at her.
"This is the holy sword?" I try to confirm, waggling it in her direction.
She nods proudly, a wide smile planted on her face.
I heft the blade, testing its weight. It's not balanced. If anything, it's anti-balanced. The edge is so blunt I couldn't use it as a butter knife. I try a practice swing and nearly drop it.
Meanwhile, Poly is practically vibrating with excitement next to me. She's bouncing on the balls of her feet, the sleeves of my old shirt flapping around like she's about to take flight. Her bare legs poke out from the hem, wobbling with every hop. If you saw her in the street, you'd think she was some lost child, not an ancient God.
She is not radiating power. She is not wreathed in flames, or even the faintest aura of anything. She is, at best, the spiritual equivalent of an overly energetic gerbil.
My hand tightens on the holy sword, which still looks like a discount prop from a flea market.
"So," I say, as casually as I can, "do you have any powers, or…?"
Poly stops in her tracks, sleeve dangling. "Huh?"
I clear my throat and attempt subtlety. "Coz you're…you know…a God and all. Shouldn't you have some kind of really amazing power?"
Poly's cheeks instantly go red.
"Uh, powers…um, of course I have them…" she answers, but her eyes dart away from mine evasively.
"Great!" I exclaim. "Can you show me then?"
…
Silence.
"You do have powers…right?" I confirm again, and Poly's entire body visibly tenses up. Then, as if some inner spring snaps, she puffs out her cheeks and plants her fists on her hips. The too-long sleeves of my shirt droop down over her hands, and she looks for all the world like a toddler cosplaying as a very ineffective superhero.
"I'll have you know that I'm one of the strongest Gods in all of existence!" she huffs, voice suddenly several decibels louder. "If you saw my true form, you'd instantly be overwhelmed by sheer awe and reverence."
"Uh-huh," I answer while internally rolling my eyes, unconvinced. "So you don't have powers."
"I, uh," she stutters, and I can practically see her pupils spinning as she tries to muster a response.
"It's not that deep," I tell her, "you either have powers, or you don't."
Poly's entire face is flushed red now, and it looks like her head is about to explode at any moment.
"I definitely, probably, maybe do! Just not right now!" she finally blurts out, before quickly covering her mouth.
"I knew it…" I sigh, shaking my head. "You don't have any special powers and you're smaller than the average human. Are you really a God?"
"Rude!" she gasps, offended. "I gave you the holy sword, Soul-Sucking Excalibur, didn't I? Doesn't that count for something?"
"This junk?" I raise the scrap of bent metal up, eyeing it suspiciously.
"It's not junk, it's the greatest weapon in all of creation!" she insists, which would have been more convincing if her voice didn't squeak like an indignant hamster at the end.
I shake the sword. "It looks like something a drunk blacksmith made as a joke," I remark. "And why is it sticky?"
"Excalibur's form manifests according to the energy it accumulates. It was at full power last night, but when it passed into your world, its energy was reset to zero," she explains, barely missing a beat, but her cheeks are now so red they're approaching critical mass. "And it's, um, a little sticky because I might have used it one last time right before crossing into this dimension."
I consider this. "You're not actually a God, are you? You're just a weird girl peddling defective swords."
Poly stomps her foot, which makes almost no noise but does make the sleeves flap in a menacing way.
"I am too a God!" she declares. "Just return the holy sword to its true form and I'll be able to show you my real powers!
"And how am I suppose to do that?" I ask.
Poly's eyes gleam. "Simple! You just have to keep defeating enemies who possess otherworldly energy, and the sword will absorb a portion of their energy to feed itself. A God or anyone who has received powers from a Pact will do—like, say, the Demon noble living in this mansion!"
I eye the holy sword suspiciously. "You…want me to fight Lady Vespera? With this joke of a weapon?"
"Yup!" she chirps. "And not just her. The Soul-Sucking Excalibur needs a ton of energy so you'd have to work your way up and probably defeat a few Gods as well before it can reach max power. But, you know, we can just start with the small fry first."
Small fry. She called a seventeen-meter-tall colossus who could snap me in half like a twig a small fry. And not just that, she expects me to take on Gods—an actual, godly God, not a delusional child poorly cosplaying as one—with nothing but this heap of scrap metal. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her confidence.
"Do you have any idea what Lady Vespera would do to me if I poked her with this thing?" I hiss. "She'd wear my skin as a hat!"
"But you have Excalibur now!" she says. Her unwavering faith in the sorry excuse of a weapon is impressive even if nothing else about her is. "Just go on and fight her. Trust me."
"Absolutely not," I refuse. "She'll kill me, then probably kill you, then use my corpse to clean her teeth."
Suddenly, the floor starts to shake.
It's not an earthquake. It's worse. It's the sound of Lady Vespera returning to her bedroom, and every footstep is like a minor planetary collision.
The vibrations grow stronger, making dust drift from the ceiling. Poly clutches my arm, eyes wide with anticipation.
"She's coming," Poly whispers. "Perfect! Now's your chance!"
Chance? Chance for what? A demotion from slave to floor stain?
The footsteps stop right outside the door.
A low growl rumbles through the wood, and the knob twists, warping under the pressure. The door swings open, revealing a wall of silk and muscle, red eyes already glowering at the world. Lady Vespera steps in, strutting as if she owned not just the place, but every breathing soul in the vicinity. Her hair is immaculate, her nails freshly sharpened, and her expression says she is looking for an excuse to obliterate something.
Lady Vespera doesn't even look in my direction at first—why would she, when I'm worth less than the dust that decorates my pathetic little corner? She kicks off her stilettos with a crash that makes my teeth rattle, then storms across the carpet, every stride swallowing meters at a time.
I flatten against the wall, praying she'll ignore my corner. My first thought is, I need to get Poly to hide. But when I turn around, she was already sprinting forward without warning, launching herself straight into the open. She pumps her fists, planting herself dead center on the bedroom floor, and cups her hands around her mouth.
"HEY! Down here, you big oaf!"
It's over. Oh, it's so over.