The King of Cats skulked along a back alley, as a cat of course. He still had his pride. His mottled and somewhat dingy coat might have shown a bit of glimmer here and there as it caught a fragment of light.

  Reigning as the God of Luck in the Jade Emperor's Pantheon for well over a decade might have given a human headaches, or left them rolling in luxuries. But the King of Cats wasn't human, and didn't want to be. The Jade Emperor's admiration of them was a bit silly, but then, he wore their shape all of the time, in one instance or another, unlike the Deities who served him.

  That probably messed with your views, the King of Cats decided as he jumped over the numbers that flashed in his third eye. A million was such a big number that most humans didn't really understand it. But a million seconds wasn't that large. A little over a month within the Empire, or about eleven and a half player days.

  A million actions was something else. Even a million breaths would take a full year within the Empire. Something a person did once an hour would take over a century in player time. All of which meant that despite taking 20 player years, or 60 years within the Empire, this person obviously had extremely repetitive habits.

  If the King of Cats had been human, he might have expected that the person he was going to meet would seem very boring. But since he was essentially a cat or something even less quantifiable at his core, he expected this encounter to be very interesting. He stepped sideways between the space a lazy celestial servant had left between the inner and the outer, and came out in a village halfway across the Empire.

  He sniffed, and dodged the footsteps of a rather surprisingly large gathering of players. The first person to use a skill a million times was obviously a busy sort, with a lot of busy friends.

  A rather harried looking cat rushed up to the King of Cats a moment later and exclaimed (in their own language of course), "Thank all the gods, you've come!"

  As one of the gods thanked, the King flicked an ear in resignation. "What is it?" he asked simply.

  The harried cat explained in a rush, "Whatever these players are up to has prevented the traveling merchant from visiting for over a month!"

  The King of Cats paused. That was definitely unusual. "What have they been up to?"

  The harried cat gave him a helpless look, and suggested a little uncertainly, "Talking about an imaginary war?"

  Oh that was very interesting. But it might not be something that he could approach directly. The King of Cats leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the harried cat in a seeming gesture of comfort. The little cat froze for a moment while the King read its memories.

  Very interesting, and very annoying, the King of Cats decided as he released the harried cat, and said soothingly, "I'll take care of it."

  "Oh!" Someone else said in the moment of silence before the harried cat's response.

  The King of Cats reached out into the invisible space where he regulated chance, and a dozen things seemed to go wrong at once within the crowd a moment later. He turned to the Player who had spoken out when the announcement window had finally popped up.

  "Oh what?" the irritated human player beside the little goblin player asked. She rubbed the edge of her thigh high boot where the edge had started to rub uncomfortably when the locality's chance had bent it.

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  "What oh?" the little goblin asked innocently.

  "Don't get smart with me! You said OH a moment ago!" the irritated one exclaimed.

  "Oh, it's nothing important," the little goblin assured its human companion while dismissing the notification window. "I've just used this skill a million times."

  The King of Cats watched the irritated human roll her eyes. How curious. The person playing her probably didn't share her body type. The Character design was what a certain celestial servant that he knew well might have referred to as stick-on bimbo. Many of the crowd that was suffering the little wave of bad luck that he had triggered shared a similar oddly expensive yet generic vibe.

  The King of Cats stepped sideways and became an even smaller and grimier goblin than the player who had so casually dismissed the first millionth skill usage notification. It was as though he had taken off an invisibility cloak, as nearly everyone in the crowd, except that poor soul with the green elbow wrench over there, turned to stare at the new goblin.

  He cocked his head at them and then laughed.

  "Ummm, just kill him, that's simplest," suggested the irritated player who had been beside the other goblin a moment ago.

  "It won't be the most informative tactic," objected the goblin.

  The god of Luck, who was normally the King of Cats approved. Very goblin like. A real goblin could have made an objection like that. Innocently ominous until further detail was obtained. He smiled.

  A player behind him tried to hit him with a blunt object. The cudgel bounced in a rather unrealistic fashion, and the crowd gasped. Dozens, literal dozens, of projectile weapons appeared to stab into the smaller, grubbier goblin, as the million time skill using goblin dodged the dart that had targeted it instead.

  "Take your war games elsewhere," the God of Luck advised almost kindly, as he bent the probability of another knife throw and the blade hissed through his hair like a fond caress.

  "War games?" asked the million time skill using goblin incredulously.

  "What would you call it?" the little God of Luck asked, wiping away a single drop of blood where the arrow aimed at his artery had nicked his skin. The poison on it tingled a little.

  "Err... spam?" the player goblin replied nervously, gazing at the dart that it had somehow dodged.

  "Spam?" one of the other players asked a little incredulously.

  "Err, yeah? We're taking down the target power systems by spamming their providers, aren't we?"

  "And you imagine that taking down a power system isn't a war game goal?" the God of Luck asked with almost artificial interest.

  "It's not a game! I mean, it's not happening within this game, so why do you care?" someone else blurted, to be immediately hushed by those closest.

  "Don't worry," the little goblin soothed. "I can take you at your word." He twirled a little throwing knife he'd just pulled out of his jacket shoulder with his fingers.

  "I don't think..." the other goblin began.

  The goblin war band that had just stepped around a corner to find themselves a dozen miles away stared at the Players for a long moment. The God of Luck sniffed again. Lazy and slow. The players panicked. Some of them logged out.

  "Hi?" the goblin player said nervously.

  "Goodbye, I think," the goblin warrior said as his spear flashed out.

  "We're operating under the assumption that this is not a game," the smallest grubbiest goblin announced in the Common tongue with glee.

  "We're what?" asked one of the players.

  "Not gaming," the little God of Luck informed him.

  --

  The King of Cats watched as the villagers who should have been occupying this place respawned. Their memories were intact, right up to where the harried looking cat's memory had said that the players had taken over the village.

  The traveling merchant leaned on his cart and informed the cat, "That was messy."

  "Very neat," the King of Cats who was the God of Luck, objected calmly.

  "You respawned them," the merchant pointed out.

  "Only after I sent the goblins home," the smaller god protested.

  "You broke some rules," the merchant said.

  "Only bent a little. Came to give the prize." He licked his paw expressively.

  "Did you give out the prize?" the merchant asked as though he didn't know.

  "Not yet," the King of Cats admitted.

  The merchant raised an eyebrow, the way the God of Luck might have.

  "I'll give it to them if they come back," the King of Cats said almost innocently.