Numbers on the dispy blinked: 173.

  “Next.”

  The god sighed. Already exhausted, and the day wasn’t even halfway done.

  With a fsh of white light, a teenage boy appeared. As with every previous case, the god unched into the standard apology.

  “We are very sorry. You have been unjustly killed. No, we cannot revive you. You have two options. You may pass on to the afterlife—we’ll put in a good word and overlook some minor sins—or, you can continue your life in another world. And yes, before you ask, you'll receive some blessings to help you.”

  The teen stared, blinking slowly.

  “What do you mean I died? I was just sitting on the sofa, reading.”

  Ah. This one actually let him finish before asking questions. Progress. Even if it was the same question everyone else asked…

  “There was a minor disaster pnned today, but due to an internal error, it got... out of hand.”

  “How does a pnned disaster get out of hand?”

  Sigh. “One of my colleagues may have… mistaken feet for meters while generating an asteroid.”

  Here it comes...

  “What kind of god makes a mistake like that?”

  Hmm? No screaming? No ranting?

  “A newbie,” the god replied dryly.

  The boy gave a deadpan stare.

  “A newbie god killed me. Great. Okay, not much I can do about that… So, what were you saying about blessings? And what kind of world are we talking?”

  Just like that? This might actually go smoothly.

  “So, you choose another world? Figures. I can offer you a talent—something that allows you to grow into almost anything. As for the world... Think medieval fantasy, like in your books. Magic, monsters, swords, the usual.”

  The boy fell silent, deep in thought. Then:

  “Can I be a hero?”

  “No, I’m afraid that world isn’t scheduled for a hero for another eight years. But if it’s greatness you're after, there are many other options. Archmage, swordmaster, assassin. If you're not into combat, cleric or even cook are respectable paths.”

  “Are those just talents? What about, like, instant power?”

  “Power without effort comes at a price. The stronger the power, the higher the cost. And there are limits—we can’t disrupt a world’s bance.”

  He expected silence, but what came next surprised even him.

  “What if I wanted the power to become everything?”

  “Didn’t you hear a word I said? Power on that level would come with extreme restrictions... and consequences. It could be even random in how or when it manifests.”

  “So it’s possible, then.”

  Oh no. He’s that kind of soul.

  “It’s possible,” the god admitted slowly. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  The god stared for a moment, then shrugged.

  “Fine. Any preference for your starting location?”

  “Is there anything like... a hero’s starting vilge?”

  Why the obsession with being a hero? The god scanned the world, and a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “There is a pce. Toram. A remote logging vilge on the edge of civilization. Dense forest all around. Sound suitable?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then it’s time. Good luck, boy. You’ll need it.”

  Before the boy could reply, he vanished in a fsh of light.

  The god leaned back with a groan, eyes drifting to the soul queue.

  Greedy one, that one. Let’s see how long he sts.

  The dispy blinked again: 174.

  “Next.”