Game Master in Another World

As the quiet of the empty house settled around us, Juliana finally began to relax. It gave me a chance to process the sheer chaos of the day, and the crushing implication of the time that had passed.

Illara was dead. The memory of her passing was devastatingly fresh in my mind, yet I had been unable to join her wherever her soul had gone. A profound wave of sadness began to overwhelm me. The thought of continuing to exist in this world without her felt unbearable.

Juliana sensed the grief welling up within my spirit. “Why are you sad, Lord Geoff?” she asked aloud.

I tried to mentally compartmentalise the feelings before taking control of her voice. “I was just remembering the loss of someone very close to me.”

I released my grip. Juliana tilted our head, her brow furrowing in thought. “If they were a god like yourself, how could you lose such a being?”

As I took the wheel, hot tears immediately spilled over our cheeks. “She was not a god,” I answered, my voice cracking. “She was a mortal human named Illara.”

I let go. The tears instantly stopped forming, though they still wet our face.

“Oh,” Juliana replied, sounding genuinely intrigued. “Did you possess her too?”

I took control, and fresh tears flowed once more. “No. I observed her from birth for twenty years. After that, I created a body—Drisnil. Through that body, I got to know her on a personal level. Eventually, we were even married.”

I relinquished control. Juliana gently wiped my tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “For a god to marry a mortal is an immense blessing to them,” she said softly. “How did she die?”

I took the helm again. Recalling those final moments, I choked up, unable to hold back a sob. “She died of old age, in my arms.”

When Juliana returned to the surface, she offered a genuinely gentle smile—a stark contrast to the unhinged one from earlier. “Then she lived a long, fulfilled life. I imagine she passed away very happy.”

I took control just long enough to simply nod in response. The emotions were too raw to process any further right now.

A few moments later, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Come in,” Juliana called out. Her manic smile flashed across our face for a second before she forcibly wrangled it into a more neutral, pleasant expression.

The door creaked open. A terrified-looking boy stood in the doorway, his hands trembling as he held a wooden tray. “I’ve brought you some supper,” he said quietly, his eyes darting toward the door as if looking for an escape route.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, dear. Only the wicked need to fear me,” Juliana said in a sickly-sweet tone.

The boy swallowed hard, slowly approaching the table to set the tray down. It held a tough-looking loaf of bread and two bowls of watery soup.

“Thank you,” Juliana said, her unsettling smile returning in full force. “And for your efforts, please accept a gift.”

She spoke a brief, guttural incantation. The wooden floorboards instantly parted, and a vibrant green plant sprouted directly from the dirt beneath. Within seconds, it blossomed, producing four plump, purple berries that emitted a faint, magical glow.

“Please, pick some berries for your family,” Juliana urged. “I think you’ll find them suitably nourishing.”

The boy reached out tentatively, his finger brushing against a glowing berry before he quickly snatched his hand back.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. They won’t hurt you.” Juliana plucked one herself, popping it into our mouth and swallowing.

The berry tasted incredible—a rich, sweet mix between a strawberry and a perfectly ripe plum. Immediately, a wave of magical contentment washed over us, completely vanishing any lingering feelings of hunger or fatigue.

Reassured, the boy quickly picked the remaining three berries. The second the final fruit left the stem, the plant instantly withered, turning to ash and blowing away in a non-existent breeze.

The boy jumped back, clutching the berries to his chest. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to break it.”

“Do not worry, that is simply the nature of the spell,” Juliana replied gently. “Make sure you and your family eat just one each today.”

The boy didn't need to be told twice. He turned and bolted out of the room.

Sitting in the quiet room, I considered what I had just experienced. Juliana’s willingness to casually expend magic was staggering. For a normal spellcaster, summoning magical sustenance was a calculated use of valuable resources. But for a Level 20 demigod, her mana pool—or spell slots, or whatever internal mechanic governed this world—was so vast that the trivial act of feeding a peasant wasn't even a drop in the ocean.

"Now, we must make use of this offering, Lord Geoff, which the village has so graciously prepared."

Juliana dipped a piece of the bread into the soup and took a bite. The bread was rock-hard and tasted completely stale, while the soup was little more than warm, barely flavoured water.

Juliana ate it anyway, not wasting a single drop or crumb. "As a first offering, it might seem meagre," she noted, a small, genuine smile touching her lips, "but for a village in this state, it may as well be a king’s feast."

It was incredibly refreshing to share a headspace with someone who possessed a strictly Good alignment. I could at least rely on her to help people out of genuine altruism, even if her zealous delivery was a little warped.

After finishing the meal and neatly stacking the wooden bowls, Juliana stood up and headed for the small, solitary bed in the corner of the room. "Now, if it pleases you, my Lord Geoff, I shall rest. I have a worship ritual to partake in tonight."

I gave a mental nod of agreement. My memories were a bit hazy on the exact details of this particular worship ritual, but knowing how 'quirky' I had made her backstory all those years ago, I strongly suspected it was going to be deeply embarrassing for me.

I joined Juliana in her slumber, choosing to let my consciousness drift into the dark quiet of her mind. I really didn't want to sit in the void alone while she slept.

What felt like only a minute later, Juliana opened our eyes. It was the dead of night. Bright, silver light from a full moon was spilling through the small window, illuminating the dusty room.

"Now, Lord Geoff, I must partake in my worship ritual, exactly as you decreed."

Juliana stood up, walking with absolute purpose out the door and into the muddy, ruined field behind the house.

"As there is no forest nearby, I shall simply create one for the time being."

Juliana wove a complex, sweeping incantation with her hands. The air rippled, and all of a sudden, the war-torn village vanished. We were standing in a pristine clearing deep inside an ancient, towering forest, the leaves glowing ethereally under the moonlight.

Noticing my sudden spike of apprehension, Juliana spoke aloud. "Do not worry, Lord Geoff. This is merely an illusion. I just feel this sacred rite is best performed in a proper woodland, rather than a trampled farmer's field."

Then, with zero hesitation, Juliana began to undress, methodically peeling off her druidic robes.

I violently seized control of our vocal cords. "Whoa, hey! What are you doing?"

I relinquished the wheel. Juliana blinked, looking down at her half-unbuttoned tunic. "Why, I am preparing for the naked moon dance. The one you designed for me," she replied smoothly. "Feel free to project your spirit outside my body to watch, if that is what you wish."

Oh, god. The memories of my old campaign notes hit me like a truck. I had written that. I had given her a quirky backstory trait where she communed with nature by dancing naked under the full moon. Writing it on a character sheet had seemed atmospheric and thematic at the time. Confronting it in reality was utterly agonizing.

It felt incredibly awkward, but I was the idiot who made her this way, so I had no one to blame but myself. I firmly decided I would stay locked entirely within her mind. It was a weird compromise, sure, but projecting myself as a ghost just to watch her dance felt way too perverted.

I retreated deep into the recesses of our shared mind, firmly planting myself in the passenger seat. I braced myself for the awkwardness, but the moment Juliana began to move, the sheer sensory overload caught me completely off guard.

The first thing that hit me was the cold. As the last of her garments fell to the illusory forest floor, the crisp, biting chill of the night air rushed over our bare skin, raising goosebumps along our arms. Then came the ground beneath us. The magic of the illusion was flawless; I could vividly feel the damp, cool moss pressing up between our toes, the wet earth giving way slightly beneath her shifting weight.

Juliana began to dance. It wasn't a chaotic flailing, but an expression of raw, primal devotion born of a Level 20 physicality. I felt the powerful, coiled tension in our calves as she leaped, the sudden, stomach-dropping weightlessness of the air, and the shock of impact absorbed perfectly by her lithe, athletic frame. Every spin pulled our muscles taut, her heart pounding against our ribs in a frantic, steady drumbeat. I could feel her lungs expanding, drawing in deep, ragged breaths of rich, pine-scented air.

But the most staggering sensation was the moonlight itself.

As she wove her way through the silver beams piercing the forest canopy, the light didn't feel cold or empty. Wherever the moonlight touched our bare shoulders and back, it felt like liquid warmth. It was a thrumming, electrical tingle that seeped directly through her pores, carrying with it a wave of pure, unfiltered ecstasy.

It was a bizarre, intoxicating feedback loop. I was feeling her profound, religious devotion radiating from her soul, while simultaneously experiencing the physical heat, the exhaustion, and the exhilaration of the dance. I had written this ritual years ago as a throwaway piece of edgy lore on a character sheet. But actually living it—feeling the absolute, terrifying beauty of her faith pouring through every nerve ending—left me completely overwhelmed.

When she finally slowed to a stop, chest heaving and skin slick with sweat beneath the glowing moon, I realised just how real she truly was. She wasn't just a character anymore. She was a living, breathing force of nature, and she was entirely devoted to me.

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