Chapter 212: Naming the divine

The wind howling through the high-altitude cliffs of the Uncharted Lands carried a sharp, metallic bite. High above the jagged subterranean spire they had just abandoned, the sky hung like a bruised sheet of twilight, flickering with distant, silent bolts of residual spatial mana.

Vetra sat on a low, flat boulder near the mouth of a shallow cliffside alcove. She blew a gentle stream of crimson dragon-fire from her lips, coaxing a pile of dry, petrified wood into a crackling, golden campfire. Her long tail swept rhythmically against the stone, the scales near the tip glowing with a low, ambient warmth. Across from her, Elena had spread out a heavy wool blanket, her spectacles resting on the tip of her nose as her stylus flew furiously across her glowing crystal slate.

"Perimeter wards are set," Elena announced softly, tapping her ink-brush against the frame. "A three-tier thermal and spatial obscuration field. Nothing short of a high-ranking Archon patrol will even register our presence here."

"Good," Vetra grunted, sliding a whetstone along the edge of her hunting daggers. The soft shhh-shhh of steel on stone echoed pleasantly against the cavernous rock. She glanced toward Vince, who was sitting against the far wall with his boots stretched out toward the fire. "And our leader didn’t have to blow up a single mountain to get us out here. I’m starting to like this new ’micro-precision’ stuff, Vince. My ears aren’t even ringing."

Vince gave a curt, polite nod, though he barely heard her.

He was somewhat preoccupied.

Floating directly in his lap—lying on her side with her plush, impossibly generous hips taking up the entirety of his field of view—was the invisible Goddess. Her translucent purple silk drapes trailed over his knees, and her long, star-spun hair spilled across his boots. She had one elbow propped on his thigh, resting her chin in her palm as her golden eyes stared up at him with unblinking, mischievous devotion.

So, she purred into his head, her voice dropping into that warm, honeyed frequency that made his teeth ache. The Primordial Lotus is resting safely in your little dimensional pocket. I can feel its pulse from here. It’s empty... cold... just begging for your divine essence to warm it up.

Vince kept his face completely expressionless, staring straight into the crackling fire. He had learned the hard way that looking directly at her while Vetra and Elena were watching was a fast track to being institutionalized.

"We’re resting," Vince thought back sharply, keeping his mental channel as quiet as possible. "And stop sprawling across my legs. You don’t have mass, but it’s the principle of the thing."

Oh, but I do have mass, darling, she giggled, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms above her head, accentuating her massive chest. You just haven’t filled me up enough to feel it yet. But soon... very soon...

Vince let out a slow, silent breath through his nose. He looked at her radiant, ethereal face—the flawless, sculpted features that belonged to a primeval deity who had once governed the fundamental laws of the world.

An idle thought crossed his mind.

"Hey," Vince thought, directing his attention straight to her. "Now that you’re out of that mechanical shell... what am I supposed to call you? I can’t keep thinking of you as ’The System’ or ’The Regulator’."

The Goddess paused her stretching. She floated upward, sitting cross-legged in mid-air an inch from his face, her golden eyes widening with childish delight.

My name? she asked, her lips curling into a wicked, triumphant smile. Oh,... primeval goddesses do not possess static mortal labels. When the Archons caged me, they erased my cosmic title from the stars.

"So you don’t have one?" Vince muttered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vetra glanced up from her dagger, blinking. "Did you say something, Vince?"

"Just checking the fire," Vince said smoothly, nudging a log with his boot.

The Goddess giggled, drifting upside down until her nose was practically touching Vince’s. Because you are my partner —the one whose divine essence will forge my new vessel—my true name belongs to you. Whatever title you bestow upon me right now becomes woven into the cosmic law of my soul. It will be my absolute, eternal name forever.

Vince froze.

He looked at her. He looked at her teasing, confident, insufferably smug grin. He remembered the past few hours of divine throttling, the endless comments about his "finesse," the way she forced him to snip Archon pylons like a tailor, and the relentless, shameless teasing about "deposits."

A dangerous, predatory glint entered Vince’s eyes.

Whatever name I give you... becomes your true name forever? Vince asked mentally, a faint, sinister curve touching the corner of his lips.

Indeed! she beamed, puffing out her massive chest proudly. Give me something majestic! Something grand that reflects my divine splendor! ’The Cosmic Weaver’! ’The Absolute Empress’! ’Sovereign of—’

"Barnaby," Vince said aloud.

The invisible Goddess blinked. Her golden eyes went completely round.

...What? she squeaked, her voice suddenly losing all its sultry, divine resonance.

"Your name is Barnaby," Vince said, his voice ringing out clear and firm in the quiet alcove. He looked her dead in the eye, his grin widening into a brilliant, ruthless flex of pure petty revenge. "Princess Barnaby the first ."

A silence so profound fell over the alcove that even the crackling fire seemed to quiet down.

The Goddess’s jaw dropped. The ethereal light radiating from her body flickered violently. N-NO! WAIT! NO! YOU CAN’T DO THAT! VINCE! MY KING! PLEASE!

A golden, ancient rune flared briefly above her forehead—the cosmic logic of the universe permanently locking the designation into her core.

NOOOOO! Barnaby shrieked, floating frantically around his head like an enraged, glowing hummingbird, her plush arms flailing as her long silk dress whipped through the air. BARNABY?! BARNABY IS A DONKEY’S NAME! IT’S THE NAME OF A PLOW HORSE! YOU CANNOT NAMED A PRIMEVAL DIVINE ENTITY OF COSMIC AUTHORITY ’PRINCESS BARNABY’! CHANGE IT! RE-NAME ME! I BEG YOU! VINCE!

Vince couldn’t hold it in anymore.

The sheer, ridiculous spectacle of an impossibly voluptuous, cosmic goddess throwing a full-blown temper tantrum in mid-air over being named ’Barnaby’ shattered his transcendent composure.

He threw his head back and broke into hysterical, chest-heaving laughter.

"Pahahahaha! Barnaby!" Vince roared, clutching his stomach as tears of pure amusement pricked the corners of his eyes. "It suits you! Fits your personality perfectly, Princess Barnaby!"

I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! Barnaby wailed, floating upside down and trying to slap his shoulders with her intangible hands, her face flushed red with divine embarrassment. TAKE IT BACK! CALL ME SOMETHING ELSE! I’LL BE GOOD! I WON’T UNEXPECTEDLY TAMPER WITH YOUR MANA! JUST NOT BARNABY!

Vince just laughed harder, pounding his knee against the stone floor. "Not a chance! You said it yourself—it’s woven into cosmic law now! Live with it, Barnaby!"

Across the campfire, the whetstone slipped completely out of Vetra’s hand, clattering against the rock.

Elena’s stylus froze mid-stroke. Her spectacles slid down her nose as she stared at Vince in absolute, unadulterated horror.

Vince was sitting alone against the cold stone wall, roaring with laughter at the empty air, pointing a finger at a blank patch of shadows, and violently debating an invisible entity named "Princess Barnaby."

Slowly, methodically, Elena closed her crystal slate. She took off her spectacles, wiped them on her sleeve, put them back on, and looked at Vetra.

Vetra slowly stood up. Her tail was pulled tight against her leg, her amber eyes wide as she carefully slid both of her hunting daggers deep into their leather sheaths—locking the safety clasps with a sharp click.

"Vince..." Elena said, her voice dropping into an unnaturally calm, gentle register, the kind one might use when approaching a wild, cornered apex predator. "Who... who are you talking to?"

Vince wiped a tear of laughter from his eye, still chuckling as he gestured wildly at the empty space beside him where Barnaby was currently curled into a floating ball, sobbing ghostly tears of utter defeat.

"I’m talking to her!" Vince gasped, wheezing slightly. "I finally got her back! She tried to trap me with the name rule, so I named her Princess Barnaby!"

Vetra and Elena exchanged a long, heavy look.

Vince stood up, still grinning from ear to ear, stepping forward to explain. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but—"

THUD.

Vetra instantly took two big steps backward, placing herself subtly in front of Elena. She held up both hands in a open, soothing, non-threatening gesture, her claws entirely retracted.

"Whoa there, big guy," Vetra said softly, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts. "Easy. We... we get it. Absolutely. Princess Barnaby."

"Vetra, I’m not crazy, she’s literally—" Vince took another step forward.

Elena immediately grabbed her bedroll and scooted it back five full feet, pressing her back against the far wall of the alcove. She held up her journal like a defensive shield, nodding frantically.

"We believe you, Vince!" Elena squeaked, her eyes wide as saucers. "Princess Barnaby is... is a lovely friend! She’s very real! Transcending godhood comes with... immense cognitive strain. The brain creates coping mechanisms! It’s completely natural I think!"

"I am a God, Elena, I don’t have coping mechanisms, she’s standing right—"

"Just stay over there, Vince!" Vetra interrupted quickly, giving him a tight, nervous smile as she slowly backed up until she was standing right next to Elena. "You’ve had a long day. You fought four Overseers. You carried us through the rift. You just... sit back down by your side of the fire, okay? We’ll keep watch tonight. You just rest... with Princess Barnaby."

Vince stopped mid-stride. He looked at Vetra, who was standing in a defensive stance facing him. He looked at Elena, who was rapidly writing what looked like an obituary in her journal while eyeing the exit.

Then he looked to his left.

Barnaby was floating beside him, her ethereal arms crossed under her massive bust, sniffing dramatically as she glared at him with supreme smugness.

Serves you right, Barnaby sniffed, turning her head away with a pout. Now they think you’re insane. That’s what you get for calling a goddess ’Barnaby’.

Vince looked back at his terrified harem, let out a long, exhausted sigh, and dragged his hand down his face.

"...I’m just going to go to sleep," Vince muttered, tossing his cloak onto the stone floor and lying down with his back to them.

"Great idea, Vince!" Elena called out cheerfully from ten feet away. "Sweet dreams! Tell Barnaby we say hello!"