Tom stood silently in his system room and struggled to get his bodily reactions under control. His mind was spinning in response to what had happened. A thousand different thoughts were all shooting off simultaneously, crowding his brain with their clamour.


    Each of the thoughts flared up, often overlapping each other.


    Briana was safe.


    DEUS had actively manipulated MAKROS.


    His good fortune of receiving gifts had been explained.


    And, courtesy of the title upgrade, his profit in that department was only going to increase.


    Most importantly, Briana was safe.


    He couldn’t believe his spur-of-the-moment decision to call out the other GODs had set in motions the events that had occurred. The fact that a single sentence had created such an uproar astonished him. Then again, he had known that the GODs took their rules seriously.


    His impulsive act had allowed him to gain four levels on what had started off as a legendary title. It had already been powerful enough to earn him a tailored trait, and now he couldn’t wait to see what other goodies it would get for him. Better still, everything he received was going to improve his allies. If he hadn’t been barred from telling people about it,  it would have become an infinite money glitch; as it was, he wouldn’t have been surprised if this was a multiplier to humans that was significant at the competition level.


    While that was amazing, it probably wasn’t the most important thing. MAKROS had been forbidden from giving instructions about humanity. On a macro level, that was the best of the bonuses. Personally, it was that DEUS had confirmed - she had already spent a divine intervention to start the process of fixing the Briana situation. Once he was able to get the trio of them into a safe space, he could be honest with her and start healing the damage their fear had done.


    He could hardly wait.


    However…


    Now was not the time to do that, and it wasn’t just because it wasn’t breakfast time yet. With a sigh, he returned to the common area of the divine trial, into the unpleasant smell and blue ground cover. Throm had been desperate to talk to him, and Tom couldn’t refuse the request. The value associated with getting his Danger Sense disks up and running was too much to upset his primary teacher. The benefit didn’t just extend to the number of coins. The impact of denying Swift Hope’s entry to the competition on ranking points had been significant. If he affected the trajectory of a species, then he was going to be awarded that benefit. A single species had been worth a million points. If that was the case, what would happened if he started saving children across all the cohorts? If his disks performed as expected and saved lives, he would get benefits from that. The potential returns were massive.


    Crafting might yet become the catalyst for him to finish on top of the human ladder and potentially drag humanity to third place. Personally, he doubted it would be that lucrative. However, the potential was there, and only time was going to tell how it would end. The results could go anywhere, but, while he feared they wouldn’t be valuable, he hoped for better.


    He had barely reappeared on the blue grass before Throm materialised in front of him.


    Then a number of others, including Corrine, appeared a moment later. They seemed to have been brought there by a teleportation spell cast by Vturalta.


    The giant centipede shot forward though the metre separating them and loomed over him. “Why did you leave? Your experiences are important.”


    He raised his hands in apology, palm outwards. “Sorry. You know I had stuff to do. I just had to duck out for a bit to help DEUS. You know, it would’ve been rude to keep her waiting.”


    Vturalta and Connie laughed, Throm said nothing, and Esedhuil, the DEUS’ priestess, shifted her posture in a way that the body language reading ability communicated as severe disapproval.


    “And I know that what you want is important,” he continued. “Which is why I came back as soon as I did. I apologise. I just needed a few minutes to process it.”


    “Next time, don’t,” Vturalta ordered. “If you need to process something, don’t do it alone. You can do it in front of us. The way you did it, there was a risk of false memories setting in.” Her tentacles were writhing in agitation. “I can’t force it or anything like that, but debriefs after running into a torturer matter. It’s certainly more important than whatever little crisis you felt like you were having.”


    “He said he needed time,” Throm interrupted. “He’s here. Let’s let it go.”


    “No, I won’t,” Esedhuil inserted, almost snarling. “None of us appreciated how flippant you were. You should not be using her name like that. She deserves more respect.”


    “Presumably he had a crisis of self,” Throm said reasonably. “And wished to talk it out privately to his GODDESS. There’s no problem with that.”


    “I guess,” Esedhuil said. “Next time just say that plainly.”


    “Nothing wrong apart from the delay and the possible false memories that come with it,” Vturalta cautioned. “Next time, see us first.”


    “I’m sorry, but I’m here now, so let’s go do the debrief.”


    “Of course,” Throm said. “We appreciate you making the time.”


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    “Stop coddling him.” Esdehuil said. “He is here by the grace of DEUS. Doing this is his responsibility.”


    All of Throm’s arms went up and down like a Mexican wave, which was a call for understanding and unity. “A bit of politeness can’t hurt.”


    “Respect goes to those who earn it.”


    Throm seemed to sigh at the hostility of the priestess. “His ritual disks demonstrate his value.”


    “They are unproven either in construction or utility.”


    “Not true.” Throm told her. “I’ve checked the archives, and they’ve worked in the past. Besides, he’s shown the technical expertise to create them as well.”


    “Theoretically, I’m sure you’re right. Once they‘ve actually done what’s promised, I’ll be nicer to him. He joked about DEUS. I’m shocked he hadn’t been smitten.”


    “It was a different way of saying praying.” Throm rumbled. “And the fact he wasn’t smitten proves she was fine with it.”


    “That proves nothing. DEUS is not that type of GOD, Throm. You know this.”


    “We can agree to disagree.”


    Having said that, he rushed off ahead, and Tom was surprised by the centipede’s grace. It was like watching a freight train accelerate like a sports car and have the ability to go on stilts, then turn at right angles to avoid people.


    None of the others showed the same enthusiasm, and they accompanied Tom in what must have been a slow pace to them. Over two hours of gruelling interrogation, they teased out every detail of his encounter, down to what the bear’s breath had smelt like. Surprisingly, it had been pleasant, like honey mustard. The entire time they were cross-checking everything he said in the archives, both to help them with the questioning and to supplement what he told them. After the bulk of the formal interview had been completed, they switched the approach to measuring him, and he was repeatedly challenged to duels against the open champions. There was no hope of success, but they used the battlefields to test him with a variety of different mind skills.


    It was enough to give him a headache.


    “That was an amazing illusion. Can I get a few hours to practice trying to break it?”


    “Yes,” Edeshuil told him. “I’ll do that if the practice benefit is higher than twenty percent.”


    “What’s the practice benefit?” he asked the room.


    “A little more than a tenth of half a percent,” a construct who had suddenly appeared answered.


    “And that’s the problem.” She waved her hand as the construct vanished in a burst of muck. The open contenders, Tom had noticed, really disliked the constructs. That had been an open secret from his first few minutes here. But he was surprised the Esdehuil felt the same way, given her faith. She must have sensed his thought patterns, because her eyes narrowed. “They don’t self-dispose. They’re a joke the trial area does. If we fail to continually eliminate them, they build up to become a nuisance to navigating. Particularly for people in your bucket.”


    “I didn’t realise that.”


    “No, there’re lots of things you don’t realise, such as that training efficiency issue.” Despite the rebuke, she, thankfully, looked amused. “Regarding that particular method of growing strength...” It was obvious they were both aware of titles, but she knew better than to say it just in case. “That is why we don’t try that type of training. Mind you, your percentage is particularly high. Your aptitude or supporting ability must be very strong.”


    Tom’s eyebrows rose. A fraction of a fraction of a percent was high? But, given the exposure to powerhouses, he guessed that nerfing the acquisition method of titles utilised that resource.


    “For some of the others in your cohort, two hundred hours would have been worthwhile. My time and theirs is cheap, but you’ve got the Danger Sense disks to occupy you, and they’re a much better use of your time.”


    “Yes,” Tom said stiffly, agreeing with her assessment. He felt embarrassed at having to ask. “Now, let’s keep going.”


    Finally, the tests ended. He felt like he had been put through a mental blender.


    “Sorry again for subjecting you to this.” Throm repeated for about the tenth time. “But we’re pretty sure you have the following abilities.” A list appeared on the table.


    Tom read it, and, as he did so, he remembered that Dux had confirmed that he had hidden titles. He was sure that they explained the presence of these abilities.


    <ul>


    <li>Immunity from all illusions below tier 3.</li>


    <li>Increased capacity to pierce higher level illusions.</li>


    <li>Absolute resistance to all mental attacks up to tier 5.</li>


    <li>Enhanced defences to higher-level attacks.</li>


    <li>Immunity from language based mental influences. This includes audio, visual, and sensory languages.</li>


    <li>Capacity to reflect lower-tier mental attacks back on the caster.</li>


    </ul>


    “That’s a lot,” he said neutrally, while secretly jumping up and down inside.


    “Very, very impressive for someone your age,” Throm praised.


    “Agreed.” Esdehuil said. “Constructing this baseline allows us to derive the power profile of the trident’s abilities. And, unfortunately, your being stronger than expected is bad news for the rest of your cohort.”


    She wasn’t being judgemental or malicious, and she wasn’t joking. From the data he had given them, they had determined the species’ name and had constructed a high-level estimate of the monster’s skillset, which included naming specific skills.


    “Phillip and Zod are going to have to fight with a full GOD’s shield,” Esdehuil said. “At least until they can gain tier-five mental suppression protection”.


    “Agreed,” Throm said. “Can you tell them?” She nodded. “Now, everyone else, clear the room. I need a moment with Tom.”


    The others filed out.


    The giant centipede focused completely on him. “Tom, were you aware that I have an Absolute Truth Sensing ability?”


    “Um… No. I’m not even sure what that is.”


    “It enables me to assess whether a statement is accurate and if there is an intent to deceive behind and, if so, the nature of how I’m being misled.”


    “Sounds solid,” Tom responded while he tried to work out what he had said that was getting him in trouble.


    “But it also does more than that. It allows me to interpret a statement’s absolute truth. Which is not a test of whether you believe it, but one determining if reality agrees with you.”


    Tom whistled at that description. “Wow. You could use that as a divination ability.”


    Throm snorted. “Like everything, there’s a backlash if it’s used outside of how it’s intended.” he was staring at him intently with all of his limbs stilled. “You haven’t worked out why I’m raising this topic, have you?”


    Tom scratched his head. “Um… Did something I said about the trident cause backlash? Did that allow you to more accurately assess what it can do?”


    “No, that’s not it.”


    “Then I…”


    “The first thing you said.” Throm interrupted. “The very first.”


    Tom tried to remember what that was. “Are you talking about my description of the alternative reality illusion?”


    “No. The one Esdehuil got, incorrectly, I have to add, upset about.”


    “Ah, that one.” Tom cringed internally. It had been an inside joke that he had not been expecting to be challenged on. He went to apologise, but Social Silence stopped him.


    “I want to make this very clear, Tom. I never want to ever hear anything like that again.”


    “But it was funny, because it was true even if no one believed me.”


    “Tom, please.” Throm’s legs were doing the anguished dance. “I know that competition species are different, and humour can sometimes struggle to cross-cultural boundaries. But, please, refrain from doing so in the future. I don’t want to know. I’ll never want to know. You don’t understand the impact of what you let slip can have on natives. Never do it again!”


    With that, the centipede vanished.