Chapter 2 (1/2)
A black Labrador Retriever, a metal ball with magnets for eyes, and a naked old man walked into a bar. It was empty save for the wooden counter and five stools in front of it. While Vremya was examining the room, flames exploded behind the counter, and a young monk appeared, his robes made of fire. “Welcome to Pozhar’s Bar!” the monk said and swept his gaze over the three guests. His face fell upon seeing the metal ball. “God of Enforcement? I haven’t broken any rules this past decade; if you try to fine me, I swear I’ll melt you and forge your body into a bedpan.”
The metal ball rolled its eyes. “I’m not here to fine you today, surprisingly. There’s been an issue with the hidden world you’ve sold to the god of potato chips.”
“Issue?” the monk asked, locking his gaze onto Vremya. “Who’s this?”
“That’s Vremya, the god of time,” the metal ball said. “He created the hidden world that you sold to her.” The ball gestured towards Karta with its eyes. “Thus, he’s the true owner of that hidden world, meaning you’ve sold a stolen good. Since Vremya reclaimed his land, Kartofel wants her money back.”
Wordlessly, the monk reached deep into his robes and pulled out a red pouch. He placed it on the counter and slid it towards the Labrador Retriever. Karta bit the bag and swallowed it, answering Vremya’s unasked question of how she was going to pick things up without thumbs. The monk glanced at the metal ball. “Is there anything else?”
Golden lines appeared on the ball’s surface, and its eyes went wild, skidding along the text. After a moment, the lines faded, and the ball’s eyes came to a stop. “Yes, Vremya wants his origin tree back.”
The monk sighed and sat down, gesturing for his guests to take a seat as well. “Vremya,” the monk said and waved his hand. A clear bottle filled with red liquid flew off the shelf behind the monk and landed on the countertop. After the three guests sat down and the monk poured drinks for each of them, he cleared his throat. “About that origin tree…, I didn’t realize it was so picky, and shortly after transplanting it, it died. How about I compensate you with something else?”
Vremya’s eyes widened. “You killed Sticky!?”
The monk winced. “You named it?”
“Of course!”
Karta leaned over and whispered to the metal ball, “What’s an origin tree?”
The metal ball leaned over as well, rolling its body slightly towards the black dog. “You know what an origin fruit is, right? The tree produces them.”
Karta’s eyes widened, and she slammed her paw against the countertop, causing the liquid in the glasses to jump. “You blasphemous monk! You actually killed an origin tree!? Do you know how valuable an origin tree is? Money literally grows on it! Why don’t you take out your spirit stones and burn them while you’re at it?”
“Look,” the monk said, one hand holding his bald head. “I didn’t want the tree to die either, okay? I just got drunk one night, and I couldn’t find the bathroom, so I peed on the tree. It was an accident, alright? It could happen to anyone.”
Vremya’s eyes twitched. A day after he was born, he had found an origin tree and eaten one of its fruit. It was delicious. From that day forward, he swore to always keep the tree by his side, even giving it a name after much thought. Who knew that when he went to sleep, someone would kill Sticky by peeing on it? Vremya took in a deep breath and pointed at Pozhar, the god of fire. “I’m not a fan of violence, but I have no choice! Sticky must be avenged.” Vremya concentrated his energy on the tip of his finger. “One Finger Lifted, One Life in an Instant! Die!”