Ruho leaned closer to the surveillance feed, studying the pirates moving around the beach. Something caught his attention—they were all human. Every single one of them. Not a single elf, dwarf, beastman, or whatever other fantasy races existed in this world. Just humans.
"Azirel," Ruho said, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm noticing a distinct lack of diversity in this pirate crew. Are you... are you racist?"
There was a moment of shocked silence.
"WHAT?!" Azirel's voice cracked. "I'm not racist! I'm friends with a Black guy!"
Ruho absolutely lost it. He doubled over laughing, his hands gripping the edge of the table for support. "THERE'S NO WAY!" he wheezed between fits of laughter. "THERE'S NO FUCKING WAY you just pulled the 'I'm not racist, my best friend is Black' defense! That's the OLDEST excuse in the book! That's what every racist person says!"
"Well, it's TRUE!" Azirel protested, his voice rising defensively. "I literally have a Black friend! Multiple Black friends, actually!"
"Oh yeah?" Ruho was still laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. "Who? Name them. Go ahead."
"Vexor!" Azirel said immediately. "Vexor presents as Black all the time!"
Ruho stopped laughing. "Wait, what?"
Vexor's presence manifested, sounding mildly annoyed at being dragged into this conversation. "In our human-presenting forms, as opposed to our true forms of swirling wheels of eyes and cosmic energy that would turn mortal minds to madness, I typically choose to manifest with African features. It's a matter of personal preference and historical significance."
"That's BLACKFACE!" Ruho said, trying to sound offended but still grinning. "You can't just... choose to be Black when you're not actually—"
"Of COURSE I'm going to present as Black," Vexor interrupted, his tone taking on that lecturing quality. "The first true piece of architecture in human history was in Africa! Göbekli Tepe in modern day Turkey, but the region was settled by people from Africa! The birthplace of human civilization! The cradle of architectural innovation! I'm the God of Kingdoms and Architecture why WOULDN'T I honor that legacy?"
"Oh DAMN!" Azirel said, clearly pleased with Vexor's response. "See? Historical respect! Cultural appreciation! That's not racist!"
"I..." Ruho tried to think of a comeback but was cut off.
"And YOU'RE one to talk!" Azirel's voice took on a triumphant edge. "I've got the receipts, buddy! Let me pull up your file real quick... ah, here we go. In your entire life, eighteen years, from birth to death, you said the N-word slur a total of FIFTY-SEVEN times!"
Ruho's face went pale. "How do you—that's not—OKAY! I was TWELVE!"
"That doesn't make it better!" Azirel shot back. "If anything, that makes it WORSE! You said it fifty-seven times! That's not accidentally hearing it in a song! That's deliberate, repeated usage!"
"I was a dumb kid on the internet!" Ruho protested. "I'm a changed person now! I grew up! I realized it was wrong!"
"Sure you are," Azirel said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're so changed. That's why your entire manga collection was hentai with zero diversity. That's why you had no friends from different backgrounds. That's why—"
"OKAY!" Ruho shouted, his face burning with embarrassment. "Can we PLEASE move on from this? I get it! I was a shitty kid! I'm trying to be better now!"
"Are you though?" Azirel asked. "Because you've been here for days and you haven't shown much personal growth. You're still the same guy who died alone in a six-square-meter apartment."
That stung. More than Ruho wanted to admit.
"Look," Azirel continued, his tone softening slightly. "I'm just saying, maybe use this second chance at life—or afterlife, whatever—to actually improve yourself. Be less of an asshole. Think before you speak. Don't throw around accusations of racism when your own track record is questionable at best."
Ruho stood there in silence, still shirtless in his torn cargo pants, staring at the surveillance feed of the pirates. His face was hot with shame, his stomach churning with guilt about things he'd said years ago that he'd tried to forget about.
"You're right," he said quietly. "I was a shitty person. I said terrible things. I'm... I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me," Azirel said. "I'm a god, I don't care. Apologize to yourself. Decide to be better. Actually follow through on that decision."
Another uncomfortable silence settled over the room.
Finally, Azirel broke it. "Anyway. Moving on. You should probably test your new powers. You've got Launched Splinter, Killing Intent, and Patron. You need to know how they actually work before pirates show up at your door."
Ruho sighed, grateful for the change of subject even though he still felt like garbage about the previous conversation. "Ughhh, I guess."
"Don't sound so enthusiastic," Azirel said dryly. "It's only your survival at stake."
"I know, I know," Ruho muttered, turning away from the tactical table. "Where should I test them? Just... outside?"
"The plateau's pretty empty except for blood hound corpses," Azirel suggested. "Plenty of space. Bring some wood for the Launched Splinter ability. Maybe see if you can sense killing intent from any remaining scavengers."
Ruho headed for the door, his bare feet cold against the stone floor. He was about to walk out when he paused, one hand on the door frame.
"Azirel?" he said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For calling me out on my shit. I needed that." (EWW BONDING?!?!)
"That's what I'm here for," Azirel replied. "Well, that and processing souls and world-building. But mostly calling you out on your shit."
Ruho almost smiled. Almost. Then he pushed open the door and headed for the stairs, ready to figure out how to throw sticks really fast and maybe not die to pirates in the next few days.