World Walker Park [Magical Amusement Park Base-Building]

Sitting around a table of alchemy reagents used in the brewing of potions that could reincarnate every lost villager who died in a mining accident long before Luka arrived in this world, silence reigned. Seven mortals and two gods shifted awkwardly, everyone uncomfortable with the situation.

"No," Luka had said to the gods' plan. And in the moments after, the mortals in the room looked from him to the gods—and the gods to each other—and back.

In the span of time it took for someone to speak, worlds were created. Countless nations fell. Existence stretched boundlessly as magic forged the edge of the void, endlessly creating something from nothing. It was but a few coarse moments, but for the few in the alchemy building sitting around the table, these moments stretched uncomfortably long. Too long, in fact. Yet no one dared break them.

Luka flatly refused the gods. And while he had done it before, this time was different. This time there were more stakes on the line than what color track a roller coaster should or should not have. And yet, this little defiance was paramount. Beyond paramount, even.

He broke the silence. "We can hold a festival for the faithful, no matter how many show up. It will be disorganized and rushed, but we'll get through it. As a village, as a park, and as a—for lack of a better word—family."

Luka stood from his stool and took a measured step to stand before the two gods who had put more time, effort, and hope into the park. They were allies, friends, even, and Luka wanted nothing more than to help them out in their spiritual time of need. This, however, was impossible.

"What I cannot do is tell the villagers, the people who adopted me when I was at my lowest, lost in a new world, and blinded by my past, that they have to wait any longer to see their dead loved ones."

Out of the table of mortals, Annie and Vlad were wrapped in each other's arms, smiling proudly. Eve and Franky openly gawked at Luka's blatant blasphemy, no doubt agreeing with his words—even if they feared saying as much. Sol watched the show with pursed lips, her judgment reserved for only her—and the two gods in the room who could read her mind.

But it was Mayor Tram's reaction that told Luka he was right in putting his foot down. Tram was elderly. She was tattooed like an Earthen gang member, pierced with jewelry like a rebellious teenage girl, and as kindly as a granny reading a bedtime story—when she wanted to be. When she didn't, she was a battleaxe ready to cut down a World Tree.

She was reserved. She was the mayor, the soul responsible for the calamity at the mines, even if she wasn't involved whatsoever. She took that burden onto herself long ago, shouldering it to the detriment of her personal life. She was old. Elderly. Yet had no legacy. No children of her own. No family beside her equally elderly husband. She put the village on her back, caring for it with every ounce of love she possibly had. This, of course, made her tepid. She was reserved, ready for another shoe to drop. Watching, waiting, as her village crumbled under the weight of mass death.

Then there was hope, a youngish World Walker talking about spinning teacups and someone named Ferris. The park was a beacon at the end of a long-buried tunnel for Tram, one she hesitated to fully embrace. Sure, the park was a flying success and the village was revitalized. But it was hard to accept that something bad wasn't right around the corner. Another surprise, waiting to kill her loved ones again.

The potion of reincarnation would have excavated that tunnel. Tram, moments ago, finally decided to embrace the day. She held it back, of course. She wasn't young anymore—outward celebration was something left for kids and fools. She did let herself smile, however. A great big one that stretched her wrinkly face tight. Her family was finally coming back. Then the gods showed up and told her to wait.

That smile fell, cast away like a cracked pane of glass. Something fell in her heart, brittle, alone. Shouldering all that pain, all that responsibility. It was supposed to be over. And they were telling her to wait?

Then there was Luka, telling the gods no.

Tram didn't just smile. She glowed. Her eyes twinkled, like wet marbles shimmering in the light. She sat straight and tall, much to the dismay of her hunched spine. Her mind reeled; emotions long buried returning full tilt. In that moment—the moment that was by far the longest of her life—she felt like a young woman again, ready to take on the world.

Raising one hand, Tram slammed it down on the table, orcish strength fueling her old bones. Like the bang of a gavel, she repeated the process, drying all eyes—even the gods'.

"Hear, hear!" she practically sang. Luka's words woke something in her. She was on her feet without realizing it. She was standing beside Luka without remembering it. She stood tall beside him, supporting the crazy World Walker.

Suddenly, appearing like a mirage in the desert, dozens of gods stood in the relatively small room, shoulder to shoulder and each staring intently. They were a diverse bunch, all in mortal bodies to not upset the veil of reality but adopted by their various aspects. A few even shifted their appearance, switching through meaning and definition like the esoteric concepts they ruled.

Some were smiling, like the Goddess of Brews who snapped her fingers, summoning mugs of fizzing beer in everyone's hands—Luka got root beer. She downed her mug—mimicking a few others—practically howling at the divine taste. Other gods were holding in their irritation, like the God of Hymns, who wove a disappointing sad song into their air. Some swayed with the words, others actively tried to ruin the tempo.

Luka, oddly, could not find the God of Haircuts within the crowd.

"Okay, okay!" God Neb shouted, his voice powerful, like a bursting star. "We get it! Everyone go away!"

And the other gods did, returning the room to… serenity wasn't the correct word, but everyone understood a room filled with all the gods could only be described as chaos. A palpable silence lightly washed the room, the divine hymn ending with more of a whimper than a war cry. Tippy and Neb took the moment to telepathically discuss between themselves.

Eventually the conversation ended, and Neb said, "We understand asking you all to wait to reincarnate your loved ones is a hard request—"

"But it wasn't a request," Luka quickly interrupted. "You started talking about the plan without even asking or attempting to explain the issue."

The gods pursed their lips, another telepathic conversation ongoing.

Tippy took a stab. "We did do that, huh? Sorry. We did not mean to offend or order. I think my divine brother and I made an assumption we were all on the same page about the dangers of the potion you are soon to brew."

"Dangers?" Mayor Tram asked.

Tippy's red hair tumbled from her shoulder as she looked at the elderly orc. "Reincarnating people is something mostly reserved to the gods. Even young Annie's reincarnation was due to a divine being. For a village of mortals to suddenly reincarnate their friends and family, bad things will come."

"Cults, threats, war," Luka muttered, mostly to himself. The others heard. He remembered Tippy's vision of the future for the potion of decongestion well enough—the world ended because of the social impact of defeating the common cold and allergies. If something so simple could ruin the world, what happened when a potion that could literally bring people back from the dead was revealed to the public?

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The others looked at Luka, frowning. They all knew his history—was his cynicism showing again? Or was he speaking the truth?

Neb answered, "Exactly. We already talked about this when you reincarnated Vlad." He turned directly to the man. "As a side note, I'm disappointed you have not explored your World Walker magic more. I carefully curated it for you."

Vlad looked horrified, along with Annie, Luka, Eve, and Sol—the people who had seen Vlad's World Walker magic. He had only cast his divine-issued spell once, and in that moment… well, some things were too hard to describe.

"No thank you!" Vladdy suddenly shouted. "You can take away my magic, I'm okay with that!"

Neb smirked to himself. "We wouldn't do anything so drastic."

"No please! Take it away! I don't want it!"

The elder god chuckled. "The young can be so interesting sometimes."

Vlad went to respond, but Mayor Tram cut him off. "Can we focus? What was the conversation back when Vlad was reincarnated? I don't think I was present for this."

Annie answered, "That reincarnating people was—for lack of a better term—too overpowering since World Walker magic is given to all World Walkers. So, if we were to reincarnate more people from Earth, namely our children, then they wouldn't get divine magic."

Tram frowned. "Okay?" The word came out more than confused. "I don't see how that has anything to do with reincarnating people of this world. They wouldn't get World Walker magic regardless, right?"

"That's not the issue. Not really," Luka supplied. "It's one thing to reincarnate people from another world. That happens here, even if it is rare. So, people aren't going to overreact when a few pop up and open an amusement park. People will, however, notice when a bunch of dead villagers are suddenly alive."

"Exactly," Tippy said. "We gods do not want the potion of reincarnation to spread, just as we've stopped the spread of other potions already."

"You have?" Franky asked, turning to Luka. "What potions?"

"Potion of decongestion."

"Oh, that makes sense."

Luka blinked. He had seen the future where the potion ruined the world—and it still hardly made sense to him!

Neb sighed and said, "Let's stay on track—" Tram snorted and rolled her eyes. "Luka, your artifact ring is powerful. And like most other artifacts we gods have handed out, we hold the right to sanction its usage. We will not stop you from brewing as many potions of reincarnation as you can, but we will stop you from revealing to the masses that they exist."

"Does that include selling them?" Sol asked. "If we soul-bind the buyer from never speaking of it."

Luka leaned close to Eve. "What's soul-binding?"

Eve grumbled and replied, "Dark magic where you impose a contract against someone. If they intend to break it, they fall comatose."

"Not sure if I'm comfortable with doing that…"

Sol shook her head. "Of course not. Soul manipulation is a step down a terrible path. But I felt compelled to ask."

Tippy carefully said, "We are hesitant to allow such a sale. But we are not outright blocking that avenue."

Neb took a step forward, drawing the lights in the room to him. They blurred, turning the room dark while causing him to glow. "We are once again off topic. The issue of potion sales can be finalized later. What we need to discuss is—"

The door to the alchemy building opened. Judge Ben sauntered in, smiling. Then he saw who was standing inside and staring at him. Slowly, ever so slowly, his smile fell away, and he backed out of the building, closing the door behind him. Mayor Tram, Ben's wife, sighed defeatedly.

"What we need to discuss is the mass of faithful coming to the park, as well as the mass use of potions this village is about to use," Neb said, his voice dull. "We were planning, before Luka said no, to use the event as a façade. We would play into the holy aspect of the event and appear before the crowd and 'resurrect' the villagers."

"And in reality, we would have already reincarnated them with the potion," Luka said.

"Exactly. The park would have camouflage from the people looking to extort the potion, and in turn you, and you would have cover from our sanctions about the knowledge of the potion escaping this room."

The mortals in the room let that sink in, except for Luka, who, of course, had questions, "Why in two weeks? And why haven't I heard about this migration? That seems like something important I should've known by now."

Tippy answered, "It is. But as we've already shown you too much favoritism—"

"The other gods said no." Luka waved his hand. "Alright, fine. But still, how is a mass of faithful all getting here at the same time?"

"Would you believe enthusiastic organization? One of the high priestesses of the God of Organization organized the event. And her organization is legendary. She is a high priestess of organization for a reason."

"That was a lot of 'organizes,'" Franky mumbled. Eve slapped him on the arm.

"That's great and all, but usually the organizers of such events tell the venue that they're coming," Luka said flatly.

"They did," said Neb. "Did you not get a divine letter explaining as much? It should have arrived in the Divine Mailroom."

Luka studied the god for a long moment. "You're messing with me."

Neb's face remained straight. "Nope. I suggested you let the gods have a booth or two in the park before, and you told me 'not right now.' The God of Mail would've built a post office near your employee buildings exactly for events such as this."

Tippy rolled her eyes. "You say no to our temples, but then you allow that accursed barbershop. I truly don't understand you, Luka. I thought we were close then—"

Neb shut her up with a glare. "Ignore what she just said, please."

Luka suspiciously eyed the two gods. Just what was up with these haircutters.

Mayor Tram couldn't take this any longer. "What are we supposed to do with so many faithful? The park can't support that many people."

"That was accounted for," Neb said. "And why we were planning to host a divine event. We were thinking multiple copies of the park, all stacked on top of each other like layers. Multiple Lukas, multiple Trams, multiple parks, multiple villagers, employees, rides, and so on. Enough layers to host the faithful."

"Interesting," was all Sol had to say on such magics.

"What about the other gods complaining about favoritism?" Luka asked. "Because that seems pretty favorite to me."

"It wouldn't, because the park is technically, after Vale's appearance and the events around that, a holy site." Tippy then added, "Not to mention we petitioned the other gods in triplicate weeks ago to use such magics. But you would've known that because we sent you divine mail. But you didn't receive a copy—"

Luka interrupted with a sigh. Then he prayed, "God of Mail, if you want to add a divine post office or whatever to the employee backrooms, please do so."

"I'll send out one of my priests in the morning," said a disembodied voice. The God of Mail had spoken.

Tippy gave an accomplished smirk.

"Back on topic," Neb muttered, "we need to deal with the potion of reincarnation issue."

It was Franky who had an idea. "What about reincarnating the village as soon as we can and keeping the villagers hidden for two weeks? Reveal them to the public then? Surely they're going to be discombobulated anyways—last they knew, they were dead."

"That could work," Tram said. "And besides, it's going to take time to contact all the villagers who left the village after their loved ones died. Maybe we can use the new fancy divine post office to send them a letter to come back?"

"I will handle it," said the disembodied God of Mail.

"Oh. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Where are we going to house them?" Luka asked. "I can start on buildings right away."

"Why not a penthouse suite in Ressen?" Annie asked. "She's almost completed the whole inn's furnishings. There are plenty—and I do mean plenty—of rooms available now." She looked at her father. "On a side note, you should open more rooms for reservation. A lot more people can stay."

"Not until Bestial Grove is open," Luka replied. "The park needs to be larger first."

"Smart."

Tippy thought about the suggestion. "No. We don't want the potion's existence to spread and Ressen another point of potential spreading."

"Whose she going to tell?" Annie asked. "Her mom and dad?"

"Yes."

"I doubt it. Ressen's a teenager. If we ask her to keep a super-duper-secret from her parents, she will."

"She is rather rebellious," Vlad muttered, remembering the broken picnic table.

Tippy and Neb shared a glance. "Acceptable," the elder said.

And with that, the room was suddenly divine-free.

"Those guys were such downers," Franky said.

The lights in the room flickered with annoyance.

"Oops," Franky whispered. "Sorry."