The Sky Fielder began to soar into the sky. Hermes wanted to sell his products as quickly as possible, because he knew that with every passing minute, the participants would grow smarter and more adapted to the strange world they had been thrown into.
As they rose higher, he opened his Status Window.
Hermes could now understand and use the languages of the other nine races pitted against humanity. He began searching for a particular word, one that existed in every tongue and could still be written in a form legible to all ten races.
When he finally chose his username, it was with a wager in mind. If his guess was right, the auto-translate option would no longer appear beneath his name.
Hermes wrote it by hand, and with movements so precise they bordered on unnatural, he managed to fit the letters of all ten races into a single name.
[Username: Randomizer]
[Do you want to lock in this username?]
[Yes] [No]
Hermes clicked on yes, and he went to the chatting.
[INTERSPECIES WORLD CHAT]
[Randomizer: Devil's Products are coming soon to your area.]
[Rat Emperor: Friend, what are devil products? Does it also come with grain and water?]
[Giant Usurper: Devil? Evil? I'm interested.]
[Insectoid Devourer: Just finished a hundred-acre forest. Can wood be traded for devil products?]
[Hide On Bush: Guys, why does everyone understand him so fast? Is he an admin?]
The interspecies world chat turned to chaos almost at once.
Hermes gave Hide On Bush, a fellow man, a quiet thumbs up. The assist had come at exactly the right time.
Then there was the matter of race. He had thought about that as well.
The moment he sided with humanity, his name would rot in the mouths of every other species.
Randomizer is our hero.
He will hunt you down.
He is my friend.
That was the part Hermes hated. Once that happened, any cooperation left between him and the other races would only ever be the thin, careful kind.
He did not hate humans. Not at all. He still had a son waiting back home, after all.
But once he had tasted the power that came with his new species, he had wanted more.
He knew that greed for what it was. He did not flinch from it. If there was profit to be bled from this chaos, then he meant to bleed all of them alike, human and alien both.
[Choose a race:]
[Humans]
[Giants]
[Ratfolk]
[Naga]
[Ant-hive]
[Sylvans]
[Wolfkin]
[Catfolk]
[Ogres]
[Gnomes]
[Register a race?]
Hermes looked over the races, then made his choice.
He registered the name of the race without hesitation. It would be his kind, and the name of his brand.
[Enter race name: Devil]
However, the next notification stopped Hermes cold, and for the first time, a chill crept over his skin.
[System Message: Your Earth invitation to join the Worlds Collide Series has been revoked.]
Hermes waited for what would come next.
Gabby noticed the strain in him at once. She stepped close and injected him with nanomachines laced with calming agents, unwilling to let fear choke his growth.
It was a safeguard Hermes had designed himself, a quiet command built into her for moments like this.
Then another message appeared.
[System Message: You are reinvited to the Worlds Collide Series as an 11th race participant. Please register your celestial body as your home planet.]
Hermes stared at it, dumbfounded. His thoughts leapt first to the Moon, then to Mars, then even to Europa.
Gabby calmed him again, and with the panic dulled, his mind turned toward the genetic packages he had already driven into his own body.
Space Titan. Paradoxical Willow Mycelium. Those creatures were meant to grow until they rivaled worlds. If they were destined to become that vast, then did that not make them celestial bodies as well?
A wild heat rose in him then, half excitement, half the fever of a man staking everything on one throw.
"I choose my very existence as the celestial body."
The silence that followed was brief, but it felt long enough to turn his insides.
Then the system answered.
[System Message: Congratulations. You have registered yourself as your home planet.]
After the brief scare from the system, Hermes called Gabby over. Idle time was wasted profit, and he wanted to start earning at once.
"Make sure to hide yourself. Start our livestream. Give it a title. The Devil Peddles His Wares."
Gabby nodded. Small drones sprouted from her back, each no larger than a plastic pellet. They could capture more than sight alone, drawing on over ten thousand forms of perception. It was a true marvel of recording.
A moment later, the very first participant of the current Worlds Collide Series, Season 59,625,517, went online. Then the Cosmic Chronographic System hurled its broadcast across the breadth of the cosmos.
Back on Earth, every streaming app, from U-Tube to Twits, suddenly found the feed forced onto its front pages. It was the first livestream ever shown from a competitor in the Worlds Collide Series.
Government agencies were the first to click, more out of alarm than curiosity. The intrusion had struck through every layer of their systems, brazen and impossible to shut out, yet still they watched.
There, a creature that looked almost godlike revealed itself.
Hermes, already well used to giving speeches, began not with words but with the universal gesture Gabby had taught him. He lifted his hand above his head, then lowered it to where his mouth should be, then to his lower abdomen.
Think. Devour. Reproduce.
It was a greeting and a blessing both. A wish for clear thought, full bellies, and descendants enough to carry one's blood through the stars.
Hermes did not speak yet. Instead, he let Gabby guide the cameras, showing the world below as they traveled. The feed swept over the land, then over the scattered peoples of different races who looked up at his ship, its surface engraved with his faceless emblem.
Hermes guided the vessel lower, descending toward the nearest heat zone where at least three thousand beings lived within a ten kilometer radius.
Then he began firing the light beacons he had bought into the sky.
And out of nowhere, the first donation came in.
[LIVESTREAM CHATS]
[Not Hyperion CEO: Damn. Clean shot. 10/10 stream setup.]
[+5000 CC]
[Hexor: Where did you get that platform? Speak.]
[+1000 CC]
[God Apollo: Those solar barriers are absurdly good.]
[+500 CC]
[Ao Guang: Fellow Daoist, where is your face? How am I to give you face if I cannot see it? Those horns look like a dragon's. Are you dragonkin?]
[+88 CC]
The tips were already pouring in, and the cashflow was richer than he had hoped.
An hour later, people began gathering at a cautious distance from his platform.
What they found waiting for them were stone benches, polished and inviting, the sort that spoke of taste, money, and practiced comfort. The place looked something like a bar, though not quite. It had the feel of trade instead of leisure.
The first to approach was a human, as Hermes had expected. A black man with a composed face and the bearing of someone long used to being watched. Even Hermes recognized him after a moment.
Mike Jordy, a six-time basketball champion from the nineties. The man studied Hermes from head to foot, measuring what stood before him, then chose to sit, as if deciding this strange creature could still be reasoned with.
"Sir, I was brought here against my will. What is this place?" Mike asked.
Hermes said nothing. He only pointed to a nearby sign.
Buy. Sell. Trade.
Mike blinked at that, surprised he understood.
Back on Earth, people were already shouting at their screens.
"That's Mike Jordy. Why is he so young?" an elderly scientist blurted out.
"Look at this other feed. Isn't that Luis, the retired Moroccan underworld lord?" an old federal operative said, jabbing a finger on the screen.
The streamed area stretched across a hundred kilometers, too vast for a single camera to capture, so more than ten thousand live accounts were showing different angles at once.
The media spread word faster than fire through dry grass. Before long, everyone was pouring into the channels, subscribing in droves, and that too added to Hermes's growing pay.
Mike looked toward the glass cabinets set atop pillars nearly twenty meters wide. He had no money on him. Still, the sight of sweets, meat, and other goods made him swallow before he could help it.
"Sir, I don't have a way to pay..."
Hermes did not let him finish. He raised a hand, beckoned him closer, then held out what looked like a white sheet of steel.
The rules written there were simple.
[Game: Rock, Paper, Scissors]
[Participants: Minimum of 2. Maximum of 2.]
[Party A: Randomizer]
[Party B: (Username)]
[1. If Party A, Randomizer, wins, he may claim all origin world assets belonging to Party B, (Username). In exchange, Party A, Randomizer, will provide Party B, (Username), with proper survival equipment.]
[2. If Party B, (Username), wins, the round will be void. Party A, Randomizer, is not required to provide any compensation to Party B, (Username). The game may be played again until Rule 1 is successfully applied.]
[3. If Party B, (Username), uses a falsified username in this betting contract, any win claimed by Party A, Randomizer, against that false identity will be void, and the round will not count.]
Mike Jordy was a sharp man. A fool did not build nearly four billion dollars in assets. But above all else, family mattered more to him than money ever had.
"I treat my family as my primary asset. I don't want any of them harmed. If it's cash or jewelry you want, then I'll agree."
He knew better than to waste the time of something that looked this close to divine.
Hermes answered by pointing at the sheet of white steel. Letters began to appear across its surface, as though fire itself were writing them there. It was a small elemental trick Gabby had taught him, but to Mike it did not feel small at all. The hair along his arms rose.
Mike's mouth went dry. He was a religious man, or at least a man who had tried to be. Whether God truly sat above and watched, he had never known. Standing here, though, he found himself asking the question that mattered most.
"Sir, when I die, are you going to take my soul?"
Hermes made the same gesture again. Fire traced fresh words into the steel, and two new lines appeared.
[4. Party A, Randomizer, will not use violence of any kind, nor harbor murderous intent toward Party B's (Username) family.]
[5. Party A, Randomizer, will not take Party B's (Username) soul to hell nor to heaven nor to any form of afterlife.]
Hermes had already considered every scenario his clients might raise, yet he still preferred to inscribe the answers by hand.
To a man who had spent his whole life in the money game, he knew how little it took to seal a deal. A touch of flash. A few sparks. A measured bit of light. It was roundabout in its way, but far quicker than wasting time on another round of persuasion.
Mike watched the devil carve his demands into the agreement, and some of the weight eased from his shoulders. Even so, he read it through again. When at last he found nothing left to question, he offered to go first.
"I'll throw rock, Sir Devil. You throw paper. Let's get it on."
There was a grin on his face when he said it, the sort a man wore when he had already decided fear would not help him. Hermes indulged him. He played as instructed, and the moment the round was decided, the contract vanished.
Hermes checked his skills at once.
Sure enough, it was there.
[Sell Personal Assets]
[Sell Now] [Mike Jordy's Earth Assets] [3,800 CC]
Hermes went to the counter and handed Mike a list. The wares were never fixed. Some people were worth investing in, depending on the sort of character they carried, while others were little better than trash.
Hermes had met Mike Jordy often enough to believe he belonged to the first kind, a man who answered kindness with kindness. It was only Hermes's personal gamble, though, nothing more. Bread was cheap, and a small favor cost him little.
Mike moved fast. He wanted to survive, and if this game could return youth to his bones, then supernatural power was hardly out of the question.
The system had given Mike a B-Ranked Thrower without offering any choice. Even so, it felt absurdly powerful to him. He could sharpen his sight and zoom in at will, charge a throw to gain greater distance, and use a passive skill that compressed nearly anything into a ball the size of a baseball.
Water. Sand. Whatever his hand touched, the skill could compress it into a tight ball that fit neatly in his palm.
[STATUS WINDOW]
[Username: Great Baller]
[Age: 21] [Level: 1]
[Race: Human]
[Class: (Rank-B) Thrower]
[Constitution Rating: 0.66]
[Strength: 0.7]
[Agility: 0.7]
[Dexterity: 0.7]
[Reflex: 0.7]
[Tenacity: 0.5]
[Intelligence Rating: 5.33]
[Processing speed: 6.0]
[Comprehension: 5.0]
[Analytical Logic: 5.0]
[Karmic Rating: 5.75]
[Luck: 23]
[Faith: 0]
[Fame: 0]
[Enmity: 0]
[Thrower Skills]
[Eyes Zoom Past]
[Charged Throw]
[Material Grab]
"Sir, I have some choices here. Can I check them out first?" Mike asked.
Hermes brought the items over without delay. Twenty kilograms of bread. Five kilograms of meat. 10 liters of water. The best combat clothes he had on offer, along with the finest shield.
The shield mattered most, so Mike tested it at once, slamming it against the floor hard enough that he half expected it to split.
It did not even dent. There was not so much as a scratch on it.
When Hermes showed him the tally, Mike realized he had used only half of what he had paid.
He stared at the list, thinking. Then he glanced left and right.
In the distance, he could already see catfolks moving between dead trees, and farther off, giants like walking towers.
He crooked a finger, asking Randomizer to lean closer.
Hermes did not. Instead, he gestured for Mike to step up onto the table.
Hermes needed to keep his devil persona. There were plenty of eyes on them now, not just nearby but watching from far away as well. At least a thousand other participants seemed to be following the exchange, and if he came off too accommodating, they would start to feel too welcome.
Mike climbed up anyway and lowered his voice.
"I need information. I know this is something like those hunger tournament movies. I'm willing to give the rest. Just tell me anything. I don't want to die."
Hermes stood still for a moment, weighing what he could afford to say.
Then he took up a small sheet of white steel and began engraving his answer into it. The reply was long. Longer than Mike had expected.
He wrote of beast tides, violent weather shifts, dungeon outbreaks, and more besides. At least a hundred kinds of disaster waited on this world.
Mike read. As his eyes moved down the lines, the color drained from his face. Even the dark of his skin could not hide it. He had not been ready for anything like this.
His knees struck the floor. The steel plate slipped from his hands and hit with a dull clang.
Hermes watched despair settle over him like a weight. Then, in a gesture so simple it felt almost human, he handed Mike a cooled liter of his special drink.
A small sponsorship.
[Devil's Elemental Mixed Fruits]
[Details: Water infused with traces of multiple elements.]
"Don't despair. Fight. Your family is watching," Hermes said, pointing upward with quiet mystery.
Mike's body shook, but he forced himself to steady. He understood at once. This Lucifer, or whatever creature stood before him, was giving him a chance to speak to his family.
"Vicky. Bella..." Mike said through choking sobs. "Daddy's coming home. I promise."
Then he mouthed a silent thank you to Hermes and took the bottle of enhancement drink.
With it, he could see for hundreds of meters, and he had no intention of getting pinned down by giants or wasting the devil's time.
As Mike glanced back at the sheet the devil had given him, he felt a flicker of alarm. He had already memorized every line of it. What worried him now was the thought that others might profit from the same knowledge.
Then Hermes bent, picked up the sheet, and crushed it to dust in one hand.
After that, he looked at Mike and gave the barest nod. Mike understood at once. This godlike being knew he had skills enough to survive, so he nodded back and carried that gesture with him as he ran.
What Mike did not know was that the moment had already turned him into an advertisement, and Earth's live chat exploded because of it.