The universe outside was silent, a vast canvas of violet nebulas and distant, burning stars. But inside the modest house perched on the edge of the dwarf planet, the silence was broken by a long, dramatic groan.

  Nara, the Goddess of Nature, flopped her arm over the edge of the beige sofa. She stared at the ceiling fan, which was spinning lazily via a gentle wind spell.

  "I have been awake for five minutes," Nara announced to the room, pulling her oversized white t-shirt down from her face. "And I am already bored."

  She sat up, her long brown hair a tangled bird's nest. She stretched, her joints popping like cracking branches. The air in the living room smelled faintly of ozone and old books—the smell of Valerius, who was sitting in the armchair, tinkering with the wiring of their holographic television.

  Nara licked her lips. They felt dry. "I need something refreshing. Cold. Sweet." She perked up. "Coconut ice cream. And hot green tea."

  She rolled off the sofa and padded barefoot toward the kitchen island. Isolde, the Goddess of Life and Death, stood there with her back turned. She was dressed in a pristine white turtleneck and black skinny pants, scrubbing the granite countertop with a ferocity that suggested the stone had personally offended her.

  "Isolde, darling," Nara cooed, leaning her elbows on the clean part of the counter. "My favorite, most beautiful sister..."

  Isolde didn't turn around. She just scrubbed harder. "No."

  "You don't even know what I’m going to ask!"

  "You want food. You want me to make it. And the answer is no." Isolde finally turned. Her silver eyes were narrowed, and she held up a dripping, sticky rag. "Do you see this? Do you know what this is?"

  Nara sniffed. "Smells like... coconut milk?"

  "It is Amara’s mango sticky rice," Isolde hissed, glaring at a lump of blankets curled up on the rug in the corner. "She spilled it. Everywhere. It was in the grout, Nara. The grout."

  From the pile of blankets, a muffled, sleepy voice emerged. "It was an accident... the gravity fluctuated..."

  "The gravity did not fluctuate, Amara! You fell asleep while eating again!" Isolde snapped. She turned back to Nara, crossing her arms. "I have spent the last century—or hour, it feels the same—cleaning up sugar. I am not making ice cream. If I eat anything, it will be Khanom Chan. Layered, orderly, and not sticky."

  Nara groaned, slumping against the fridge. "But I don't want Layer Cake. I want ice cream! Valerius!" She turned her big, pleading blue eyes toward the armchair. "Tell her to be nice to me."

  Valerius, the God of War, didn't look up from the circuit board in his lap. "Isolde, be nice."

  "Tell her to make me a snack!"

  "Isolde, make her a snack."

  "Valerius!" Isolde shouted, slamming her hand on the counter. "Stop automating your responses and look at us!"

  Valerius sighed, the heavy sigh of a father who had been dealing with toddlers for a billion years. He set down his screwdriver and looked at his roommates. Nara was pouting. Isolde was fuming. Amara was pretending to be asleep to avoid chores.

  "We are immortal deities," Valerius said, rubbing his temples. "We can create stars. We can fold space. And yet, we are fighting about dessert."

  "It's the principle of the matter," Isolde muttered.

  "We are bored," Valerius corrected. "That is the problem. We have no purpose right now, so we create conflict."

  He stood up, his shadow stretching across the room. A spark of an idea lit up his eyes—the same look he got before designing a new solar system.

  "If we cannot agree on what to eat," Valerius said, a smirk playing on his lips, "then we shall let fate decide. A wager."

  Amara’s head popped out of the blankets. "A game?"

  "A game," Valerius confirmed. "We create a world. We create life. Four races. The last race standing wins."

  Nara tilted her head. "And the prize?"

  "The winner," Valerius said, looking between Nara and Isolde, "gets to choose the menu for the next millennium. Ice cream, Layer Cake, or..." he looked at Amara, "...whatever mess Amara wants."

  Nara’s eyes sparkled. She looked at Isolde. "You're on, frosty."

  Isolde untied her apron and threw it on the counter. A cold, competitive smile touched her lips. "Prepare to lose, nature girl."

  The four deities closed their eyes. Their physical bodies remained slumped on the beige sofa, but their consciousness expanded, shooting upward through the roof and into the cold vacuum of space.

  Together, they wove their magic. They duplicated the matter of their dwarf planet, multiplying its mass and size until a new, pristine world floated in the solar system, waiting for life.

  "Next step," Valerius’s voice echoed in their minds. "You must create your own land, populate it, and pick one species to be your champion."

  “I WILL GO FIRST!” Nara screamed telepathically.

  Her mental voice boomed across the galaxy like a sonic boom. On the sofa, her physical ear twitched.

  “WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING?” Isolde shouted back, her mental voice even louder, shaking the asteroid belt.

  “WHY IS EVERYONE YELLING?” Amara roared, drowning out the others.

  "Stop," Valerius thought, projecting his voice firmly but quietly into their heads. "We are telepathic. You do not need to scream. You are sitting next to each other."

  The three goddesses fell silent, realizing how silly they looked.

  "Let’s sort this by age," Valerius suggested, ever the logical one. "Youngest goes first."

  "Me!" Isolde answered instantly.

  "Objection!" Nara interjected. "Just because you are the shortest does not mean you are the youngest. I distinctly remember you complaining about back pain a million years ago."

  Isolde pouted mentally.

  "What about Amara?" Valerius asked.

  "Sure, I’ll go first," Amara mumbled, her mental presence feeling like a fluffy cloud.

  "He asked for your age, Sleepyhead, not your permission!" Isolde snapped.

  "Okay, stop fighting," Amara growled. "I don’t remember numbers. Who cares?"

  Valerius sighed. "I remember."

  Everyone paused. Valerius never forgot anything.

  "Amara," Valerius recited like he was reading a file. "You were twenty-two the day we met. You were twenty-six the day we became immortal."

  The group was shocked into silence.

  "And Isolde," Valerius turned his mental gaze to the small goddess. "You were twenty-five when we met. Twenty-eight when the change happened. You are the oldest."

  "Ha!" Nara laughed.

  "So that leaves Nara," Valerius concluded. "You are the youngest. You go first."

  Nara blinked. "Wait, don’t you remember my age? Why didn't you say it?"

  "How dare you challenge the memory bank," Isolde whispered gleefully in Nara’s mind.

  Instead of answering with a number, Valerius simply projected a question back at her. "Do you remember?"

  Nara opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She realized she actually... didn't.

  "Never mind!" Nara declared quickly, clapping her hands. "I’m the first! Let’s begin!"

  Valerius and Isolde chuckled softly.

  Nara floated forward in the void. She began her Nature Dance. As she twirled in the vacuum of space, her magic flowed down to the planet below. Massive roots erupted from the crust, weaving together to form a dense, vibrant jungle that covered the Southern Continent.

  High above the new world, Nara floated in the astral void. She looked down at her lush, green jungle continent and smiled. It was time to populate it.

  She held up her hand, examining her pinky finger. With a pinch of cosmic energy, she detached a duplicate of the finger. It floated in the air, glowing with potential. She began to mold it, stretching the clay of existence.

  First, she tried fish, but they just flopped. She tried frogs, then birds. Finally, she molded the form of a Human.

  "Too ordinary," Nara muttered, tilting her head. "It needs more... elegance. Perfect for a jungle."

  She stretched the ears until they were pointed. She lengthened the limbs, making them lithe and agile. She smoothed the skin until it was ageless.

  "Perfect," she whispered. But the model was still lifeless clay. She frowned. "It needs a spark."

  She turned her mental gaze toward Isolde. "Sister? May I borrow your Lantern?"

  Isolde, who was busy designing snowflakes, raised an eyebrow. "And why, pray tell, should I lend you the Vessel of Souls? You’ll probably drop it."

  Nara pouted. "Please! I’ll let you use my animal models! You won't have to design bears or wolves from scratch."

  Isolde considered this. Designing animals was tedious work. "That seems fair."

  A portal rippled open in the void. An ancient, rusted iron lantern floated out—the Lantern of Death. Inside, a green flame flickered, swirling with the souls of the unborn.

  Nara opened the glass door. She guided a stream of souls into her clay models. Instantly, the Elves gasped their first breath. They blinked, looking around the jungle with wonder.

  Finally, Nara took a massive cluster of souls and fused them with her own natural magic, planting a seed in the center of the continent. The Tree of Life erupted from the earth, its branches piercing the clouds.

  "I haven't used that much power in eons," Nara yawned, her astral form flickering. "You’re next, Amara."

  She passed the Lantern to Amara and promptly disconnected her consciousness, her physical body back in the living room trudging upstairs to bed.

  Isolde watched Amara holding the Lantern. "Hey," Isolde projected. "That is mine."

  "Oops, sorry," Amara giggled. She tossed the Lantern back through a portal to Isolde—but not before Isolde noticed Amara had palmed a handful of souls for herself.

  Isolde said nothing. She crossed her arms, curious. What will the lazy one do with just a soul and no model?

  Amara looked at her designated continent—a grassy plain. "Too much water," she mumbled. "Too much mowing."

  She raised her hand. With a gesture of draining, she pulled the moisture from the land. The grass withered. The soil cracked. The water pooled into a single, massive lake, leaving the rest of the continent a scorching desert.

  "Creatures need water," Amara mused. "Unless..."

  She took the souls she had stolen. She didn't build a body of flesh and blood. Instead, she built a frame of bone—dry, durable, and needing no water. She duplicated the Skeleton model, scattering them across the dunes.

  "Done," Amara announced. "Goodnight."

  Her presence vanished from the void as she, too, went to sleep in the real world.

  Now, only Isolde and Valerius remained in the silence of space, floating above the half-formed world.

  Isolde looked at the map. She saw the jungle in the south and the desert in the east. She looked at Valerius.

  "Would you like to join us?" Isolde asked politely.

  Valerius shook his head, his astral arms crossed over his chest. "I am the Moderator. I have no stake in this wager. I do not care for ice cream or sticky rice."

  Isolde rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't be boring. Look at the map."

  She pointed a glowing finger toward the massive, lush grasslands in the center of the world. "We have a Jungle, a Desert, and soon I will make the Frozen North. But if you leave the middle empty, Nara’s vines will just overgrow it. The world needs balance, Valerius. It needs you."

  Valerius looked at the empty land. He looked at Isolde, who was smirking at him, challenging him to stop being so stiff.

  "Fine," Valerius sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "But I am keeping it simple."

  "Excellent," Isolde said. She gestured to the planet. "Would you like to go first?"

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  Valerius raised an eyebrow. "Why the courtesy? The order was Youngest to Oldest. Nara and Amara are done. You are the next oldest, so it is your turn."

  Isolde’s smirk widened into a grin. "You may act like the serious father figure, Valerius, but I have not forgotten. You are actually the youngest among us."

  Valerius chuckled. "So, you remember?"

  "I may not be a walking USB Hard Drive like you," Isolde teased, "but I remember the old days."

  "That is normal," Valerius smiled warmly. "I loved all of you before you even knew me. So, naturally, I remember everything."

  Isolde felt a rare warmth in her chest. She cleared her throat to hide it. "Anyway. Proceed. Since you are the baby of the family, you go first."

  "Ladies first," Valerius insisted, gesturing for her to take the lead.

  Isolde rolled her eyes but accepted. "Fine. Watch and learn, little brother."

  She descended to the North. She lowered the temperature until the oceans froze. She raised jagged mountains of ice and seeded the earth deep below with precious ores.

  She borrowed Nara’s Elf model. "Too fragile," she noted.

  She thickened the bones, expanded the muscles, and toughened the skin until it turned blue to match the ice. She placed the souls into her Giants. They roared, their breath misting in the cold air.

  "Would you like to join me for the final step?" Isolde asked Valerius.

  "Fine," Valerius agreed. "But I will not be serious with my creation. Simple is best."

  He floated over the central continent. Instead of molding clay, Valerius did something strange. He duplicated his own astral body. Then, he focused.

  "Reverse," he whispered.

  The duplicate body began to shrink. The wrinkles of eternity faded. The eyes brightened with naivety. He reversed the time of his own body until it was a mortal man.

  "You can do that?" Isolde asked, stunned. "I didn't know you had mastered Time."

  "Sure," Valerius shrugged. "It just requires a lot of meditation. You have to feel the flow of entropy and force it backward."

  "Can you teach me?" Isolde asked eagerly. As the Goddess of Death, Time was her domain, yet she had never thought to reverse it.

  "It is hard," Valerius warned. "But yes. We can practice later."

  He placed the male human on the ground. "I need a favor," he added. "I need a template for the female."

  "Oh, sure," Isolde agreed. She duplicated her own form, withdrew her consciousness, and handed the empty vessel to him.

  Valerius placed the Human male and female in the lush grasslands.

  They looked at their work. Four continents. Four races.

  "I think the ocean is too big," Nara’s sleepy voice echoed in their minds.

  Isolde flinched. "I thought you were asleep!"

  "Should we add something more?" Amara’s voice joined in.

  "Good idea," Valerius asked, ignoring the eavesdropping. "What should we add?"

  "A fifth land," Isolde suggested.

  "But what is it for?" Amara yawned. "It should make the game... spicier. Or make it end faster."

  "Something that can destroy everything!" Nara cheered groggily.

  "Great idea," Amara said. "But we leave it to you two. I am actually sleeping now. Bye."

  Her presence vanished instantly. Amara didn't ask for permission; she just left.

  "Nara?" Isolde called out, sensing the youngest sister was trying to sneak away too. "You are going to help us, right? It was your idea."

  There was a pause. Then, Nara projected a mental image of herself with huge, teary, sparkling eyes—the ultimate "puppy face."

  "Oh, Isolde, my beautiful, talented big sister," Nara’s voice turned syrupy sweet. "I would love to help! Really! But you are just so much better at making scary things than I am. If I do it, I’ll probably accidentally make a fluffy bunny instead of a monster."

  Isolde rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

  "And Valerius!" Nara added, her mental voice hugging him. "You are the master of design! I trust you both completely! Do it for your favorite little sister? Please? Pretty please?"

  Before they could say no, Nara blew them a mental kiss. "I love you guys! You're the best! Goodnight!"

  Then she popped out of existence, leaving the two older gods alone in the void.

  Valerius sighed, shaking his head. "She knows exactly how to manipulate us."

  "She learned from the best," Isolde muttered.

  "See?" Valerius said, looking at the empty spots where their sisters used to be. "This is why we hold the most power in this family. The others dream, but we do the work."

  Isolde smirked, creating a massive volcano on the new island. "Are you saying I am stronger than you?"

  "If you want to test that theory," Valerius laughed, conjuring a terrifying hydra, "we can spar after the game ends."

  Working in harmony, the Light and Dark, the Life and Death, created the Mystic Wilds. It was a land without Love or Nature. It was filled with scary trees, active volcanoes, and slumbering beasts. Deep within, they hid four artifacts of immense power.

  "It is done," Valerius said.

  He waved his hand, creating a network of invisible Magic Drones. They zipped around the planet, connecting to the hologram TV back in the living room.

  "Now," Valerius said, opening his physical eyes on the sofa. "We watch."

  The magical drones buzzed into position. The new sun shone down on the fresh planet, and history began.

  But it was not a smooth start.

  On the holographic screen, the camera panned over Isolde’s Frozen Land. A group of newly created Giants trudged through a blinding snowstorm. Despite their thick blue skin, the cold was merciless. One giant stumbled and fell, frozen stiff within moments.

  "Is that part of your plan?" Valerius asked from his armchair, watching the tragedy unfold.

  "No," Isolde admitted, clutching her glass of milk. "But it is understandable. The weak will fall, and the survivors will adapt. They will be strong soon."

  On the screen, two giants stopped to help a fallen comrade, dragging him toward a cave.

  "See?" Isolde pointed, a hint of pride in her voice. "They help each other."

  "They unite against a shared enemy—the cold," Valerius noted wisely. "But be careful. When the cold is gone, they may turn that strength against each other."

  Isolde shrugged. "That is a problem for the future. For now, they survive." She took a long sip of her fresh milk.

  "You know," a voice chimed in from behind the sofa, "since you are immortal now, drinking milk won't actually help you grow any taller."

  Isolde lowered her glass and glared over her shoulder.

  Nara stood there, grinning. "Just kidding, Sis." She hopped over the back of the sofa and plopped down next to Valerius. She pointed at the floating hologram. "Is this it? Is this our world?"

  "It is," Valerius nodded. "You can control the camera with your mind."

  "Wow." Nara’s eyes sparkled.

  Isolde, eyes narrowing slightly, walked toward the kitchen. "Nara, do you want a drink?"

  "Oh! Thanks, Sis," Nara beamed, surprised by the kindness. "Fresh water, please."

  Isolde stood at the kitchen island. She poured a glass of crystal-clear water. Then, shielding the glass with her body, she dipped her pinky finger into the liquid and whispered a tiny, mischievous incantation. The water didn't change color, but it bubbled silently.

  She walked back and handed the glass to Nara with a sweet smile.

  "Thank you!" Nara chirped.

  Valerius hid a smile behind his hand. He sensed the magic but said nothing.

  Nara took a long, refreshing gulp. She set the glass down, sighed contentedly, and then—

  BELCH.

  A burp as loud as a thunderclap erupted from her small frame. It echoed off the walls. Nara clamped her hands over her mouth, her face turning bright red.

  "What happened?!" she squeaked, mortified. "What did you do?"

  Isolde burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. Valerius finally let out a chuckle.

  "Just kidding, Sis," Isolde mimicked Nara’s earlier tone. "Expansion spell. Classic."

  "Valerius!" Nara whined, pointing an accusing finger at Isolde. "She’s pranking me! Do something!"

  "She is laughing," Valerius observed dryly. "What do you want me to do? Punch her?"

  "Ugh! You two are impossible!"

  Nara grabbed a throw pillow and aimed it at Valerius. She hesitated—he was the God of War, after all. She swiveled and chucked it at Isolde instead.

  Whack.

  "Oh, it is on," Isolde grinned.

  For the next five minutes, the living room was a war zone of flying feathers and pillows. Finally, exhausted, they called a truce. Isolde sat back in her chair, and Nara laid her head on Valerius’s lap.

  "Are we done?" Valerius asked, picking a feather out of his hair.

  Both goddesses nodded.

  "I want to see my land," Nara said. "How do I switch channels?"

  "Just think of the Jungle," Valerius instructed.

  The hologram shifted. Nara leaned forward, expecting to see a Bambi-like paradise of cute animals and blooming flowers.

  What she saw was chaos.

  Because she had poured too much life into the land, the jungle was a hyper-evolved nightmare. Reptiles had grown into massive dinosaurs. Insects were the size of dogs. Even the trees had evolved mouths to eat the giant bugs. Spirits shrieked in the canopy, and goblins scurried through the undergrowth, fighting for scraps.

  "Is this... what you expected?" Valerius asked gently.

  Isolde hid her smirk behind her milk glass.

  "Yeah... maybe," Nara lied, wincing as a giant bird ate a giant spider on screen. "Okay, no. Not exactly."

  "There is a bit too much... everything," Isolde commented.

  "I just didn't want my Elves to be lonely!" Nara defended herself. "It's a vibrant ecosystem!"

  "It's a death trap," Isolde corrected. "But fair enough."

  Isolde looked at the empty spot on the rug. "Why is Amara still sleeping? The game has started. She needs to check her Desert."

  "I'll go get her," Nara said, starting to stand up.

  "Sit," Isolde commanded. "You never wake her up properly. You just cuddle with her and fall asleep too."

  "So, who will attempt the impossible task?" Nara asked.

  "I will do it this time," Valerius volunteered, standing up. His tall shadow stretched across the room.

  The room went silent.

  "You..." Nara swallowed nervously. "You won't throw her out the window, right?"

  "I would never," Valerius said, his face completely serious.

  "Seriously?" Isolde’s eyes widened. "Because you look like you might."

  "Just kidding," Valerius smirked—a rare expression for him. "I will bring her down gently. Probably."

  He walked up the stairs, leaving the two sisters wondering if Amara was about to have a very rude awakening.

  Valerius walked up the stairs to the second floor. He stood before the white door adorned with heart stickers and knocked.

  Knock. Knock.

  "Amara. I am coming in."

  The answer was silence, exactly as he expected.

  He opened the door. The room was bathed in blindingly bright magical light—Amara liked to sleep as if it were high noon. She lay curled in a ball, wearing a silk sleep mask.

  Valerius stepped inside. With a snap of his fingers, he killed the lights. He cast a Silence Sphere over the room, cutting off the hum of the air conditioner and the birds outside.

  The room plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness and silence.

  Valerius sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, his voice echoing in the void. "Time to wake up."

  Amara stirred. She felt the sudden drop in sensory input. The silence pressed against her ears. Her imagination immediately spiraled. Silence means emptiness. Emptiness means... spirits.

  "Valerius?" she whispered, ripping off her sleep mask. But without the lights, she couldn't see anything. "Where are you?"

  Panic set in. Her breathing hitched.

  Valerius reached out and gently grabbed her hand.

  "AH!" Amara shrieked, scrambling backward. "I heard a ghost! It touched me!"

  "It's me," Valerius said calmly.

  Amara realized it was his hand. She threw herself at him, burying her face in his chest, trembling. "Why did you do that?! It was pitch black!"

  "I am here. Calm down," Valerius soothed, wrapping his arms around her. He snapped his fingers again, and the warm, golden lights flickered back on. The silence lifted.

  "You know I’m afraid of ghosts!" Amara sniffled, clutching his shirt.

  "I know," Valerius chuckled softly, stroking her hair. "I am sorry. But the others said it was impossible to wake you. I had to get creative."

  Amara pulled back, wiping her eyes. "You created the darkness to scare me awake?"

  "Effective, wasn't it?" Valerius smirked, but his eyes were kind. "You cannot sleep forever, Amara. The game has begun."

  "Please don't do that again," she pleaded.

  "Then you must wake up when called, deal?"

  Amara nodded vigorously. Valerius leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Good girl."

  Amara took a deep breath, composing herself. "One more thing. Do not tell Nara I am afraid of ghosts. She will mock me for eternity."

  "She already knows," Valerius reminded her.

  "What?!"

  "But don't worry," he smiled. "She has the memory of a goldfish. She has likely forgotten."

  "I trust you," Amara sighed, relieved.

  Together, they walked downstairs. Amara headed straight for the kitchen to find juice to calm her nerves, while Valerius sat back in his armchair.

  Nara and Isolde looked up, stunned.

  "How did you do that?" Nara asked, eyes wide. "She is actually awake."

  "You didn't hit her, right?" Isolde checked.

  Valerius leaned back, crossing his legs. "I just gave her a kiss."

  Nara and Isolde looked at each other, confused. "A kiss?"

  Valerius glanced at Amara in the kitchen. "Would you like to explain?"

  Amara froze, holding her juice box. "No. It is a secret technique."

  Nara and Isolde narrowed their eyes, suspicious, but Amara quickly changed the subject.

  "Okay! Why did you wake me up? Is the world ending?" She flopped onto the sofa and pointed at the hologram TV.

  "Come and check your land," Isolde said.

  The group gathered around the hologram. The camera zoomed in on the Desert.

  Unlike the chaotic Jungle or the struggling Frozen Land, the Desert was... weird. Most of the skeletons were huddled together on the southeastern seaside. Others were walking aimlessly into the ocean.

  "How are they increasing their population?" Nara asked, watching a skeleton sink to the bottom of the sea like a stone. "They don't have... parts."

  "And how do they eat?" Isolde added. "They have no stomach. Why are they fishing?"

  "Their life is the Soul," Amara explained, sipping her juice. "So they consume the soul energy from living things—fish, mostly. They drain the life force."

  "And reproduction?" Valerius asked.

  "Soul Fission," Amara waved her hand vaguely. "Two parents take a piece of their own soul energy, combine it, and boom—new soul. Then they just have to find a pile of bones to build a body for the baby."

  "They build their babies?" Isolde wrinkled her nose. "Like Lego?"

  "Exactly," Amara nodded. "Also, they don't grow. They just upgrade their bones when they find better ones."

  The room fell silent as they watched a skeleton try to attach a fish bone to its arm.

  "Am I the last land?" Amara asked.

  "No," Isolde said.

  Amara looked around. "Who else?"

  "Valerius joined at the last moment," Nara grinned. "Check the center continent."

  Amara gasped. "Valerius?! We are dead. He probably made Dragon-Men. Or pure energy beings."

  Isolde and Valerius smiled. Valerius swiped the hologram to the Central Grasslands.

  "Is that... Earth?" Nara asked, sounding disappointed.

  There were no monsters. No magic trees. Just normal-looking Humans, building a wooden fence.

  "I didn't take it seriously," Valerius shrugged. "I just reversed my own time to make the template."

  "But wait," Amara squinted at the screen. "They already have a village. And a wall. And... is that a farm?"

  The Humans were moving with purpose. While the Giants were freezing and the Elves were fighting bugs, the Humans were organizing.

  "Why are they growing so fast?" Isolde asked, stunned. "It has only been a few hours."

  Everyone turned to Valerius.

  "Simple biology," Valerius explained calmly. "The Giants are fighting the cold. The Elves are fighting the jungle. The Skeletons are fighting... gravity. But the Humans? They are in a fertile grassland with no natural enemies."

  "You gave them the easy mode!" Nara accused.

  "I gave them no disadvantages," Valerius corrected. "Which allows them to focus entirely on progress."

  "Fair enough," Isolde nodded. "Let's see what happens next."

  Valerius closed his eyes. "I want to see this up close."

  "Me too," Nara said.

  Together, the four gods projected their minds down to the Human Land to witness the birth of civilization.

  The camera of the mind zoomed in.

  The Central Grasslands were a paradise. Unlike the choking vines of the jungle or the biting winds of the north, this land was gentle. Endless rolling hills of emerald green stretched to the horizon, cut through by a sparkling, lazy river that reflected the blue sky. Soft breezes rippled through the wheat fields like waves on an ocean.

  It was, as Valerius had said, "Easy Mode."

  In the East, near the banks of the Great River, a young man stood atop a wooden scaffolding. This was Cian. He was not the strongest man, nor the fastest, but his hands were never still. He held a charcoal pencil, sketching furiously on a piece of bark.

  "No, no," Cian muttered to his workers below. "The archway must be higher! It needs to catch the morning sun!"

  "But Lord Cian," a worker called up, wiping sweat from his brow. "A square door is easier to build. We need houses before winter."

  "We are not animals hiding in caves," Cian replied, sliding down the ladder with a grin. He was dusty, covered in wood shavings, and his eyes shone with a visionary fire. "We are Humans. We build not just to survive, but to inspire. Make the arch round. It will be beautiful."

  He looked at his growing settlement. It wasn't just a cluster of huts; it was the beginning of a city. He saw temples, towers, and bridges in his mind where others saw only piles of stone.

  Meanwhile, in the West, the sound was different. It was the rhythmic clang, clang, clang of a hammer striking iron.

  Dorian stood by the forge. He was broad-shouldered, his arms scarred from years of farming and blacksmithing. He dipped a glowing red plowshare into a bucket of water. Hiss. Steam rose around him.

  "Lord Dorian," a villager approached him nervously. "The harvest is good. The silos are full. But Cian’s people in the East... they are building tall towers. Should we build towers too?"

  Dorian wiped the soot from his face. He looked at the horizon. "Can you live in a tower? Can you eat a tower?"

  "No, my Lord."

  "Then we build barns," Dorian said firmly. "We build walls. We build stockpiles."

  He lifted the iron tool he had just forged. It wasn't a plow. It was a spearhead.

  "The world is quiet now," Dorian said, testing the edge of the blade. "But winter is coming. And we will be the only ones ready."

  Later that week, the two leaders met at the center of the continent, on the banks of the river that divided their lands.

  They sat on the grass, sharing a simple meal of bread and roasted venison. They were not enemies; they were two sides of the same coin.

  "You're building a wall," Cian noted, gesturing to the West. "Expecting trouble?"

  "Always," Dorian replied, tearing a piece of bread. "Wolves. Bears. Or perhaps something worse from the North. I like to be prepared."

  "You worry too much, my friend," Cian laughed, sketching the riverbank in his notebook. "Look at this river. Imagine a bridge here. White stone. Lanterns hanging from the sides. It would connect our people."

  Dorian looked at the river. "A bridge is a choke point. Easy to defend. If you build it, make sure the supports are reinforced iron, not just pretty stone."

  Cian shook his head, smiling. "Function, function, function. That is all you care about. Don't you want to leave a legacy? Something that says 'We were here'?"

  "My legacy is that my people are alive to see tomorrow," Dorian said simply.

  He stood up and offered a hand to Cian.

  "You take the East," Dorian proposed. "Build your towers. Make your art. I will take the West. I will forge the steel and fill the granaries."

  Cian took his hand. "And if trouble comes?"

  "Then the West will shield the East," Dorian promised.

  "And if hunger comes?" Cian asked.

  "Then the West will feed the East," Dorian added. "But if darkness comes..."

  "Then the East will light the way," Cian finished.

  They shook hands. It was the first treaty of mankind. The Eastern Union of culture and the Western Republic of industry were born.