You know what's hard? Relaxing.
Which is ironic, considering I literally have the power to stop time and escape to another world whenever I want. But lately, with the sunscreen empire, bicycle cult, and caffeine crusade in full swing, my peaceful moments have been limited to five-minute breaks between being called "Lady Rika" and someone asking if I can bless their goat.
So one lazy afternoon, I had a brilliant idea:
Board games.
Yes. Simple, quiet board games. The kind you can play with snacks and no life-or-death stakes. I figured it was the perfect way to trick myself into resting while still looking productive.
So, as always, I stopped time, zipped over to Earth, and raided the toy aisle like a caffeine-fueled raccoon.
I returned with:
Uno
Jenga
A chess set
A pack of regular playing cards
A few dice
And The Game of Life, which felt ironic, considering mine is currently several genres at once
Back in Atheria, I called a "strategy and rest circle" at Reika's Rest Café and invited a few trusted victims—er, friends: Lila, Marius, a shy alchemist named Elen, and the baker's daughter, who was mainly in it for the pancakes.
I started with Uno.
Simple rules, colorful cards, chaotic fun.
They got way too into it.
"RED!" shouted Elen, slamming down a card like she was casting a spell.
"Draw four!" Marius cackled.
"There is no honor in stacking two skips!" cried Lila.
I had to remind them that we weren't battling for the throne, just trying not to run out of cards. But it was already too late.
They were hooked.
By the time I introduced Jenga, things had escalated.
"Only the strong may touch the Tower of Fate!" intoned Marius, sweat dripping as he pulled a piece.
Someone threw rose petals when the tower fell. I don't know where they got them.
And then—then—I made the mistake of introducing dice.
"Ah, yes," I said casually. "These are six-sided fate cubes. You roll them to determine—"
"Fate cubes?!" whispered the alchemist, eyes wide. "Can they predict the future?!"
"...No. They just decide random events."
"So they channel chaos itself!"
"No, they—wait, actually, that's kind of accurate."
From there, it spiraled.
I taught them how to play basic board games. They started creating lore. Chess became "The Battle of Twin Kingdoms." Jenga turned into "The Tower Trials." Uno was now "Color War: Wrath of the Card Lords."
Then the mayor stopped by.
"Lady Rika, we've heard tale of your games. The guild master wants to know... will there be a tournament?"
"I—what?"
"A competition. For glory. Perhaps... a festival?"
No. I just wanted snacks and a nap!
But I couldn't say no with five villagers staring at me like I was about to launch the Olympics. So I gave in.
The First Ever "Festival of Games" was scheduled for the following week.
I printed a banner (on Earth printer paper) that read "Strength of Mind, Speed of Hand, Purity of Snacks." It was vague enough to sound wise.
The whole town showed up. I even had nobles arrive from the capital. Someone made matching cloaks for the "fate cube officiators." Lila judged the Jenga round wearing a tiara made of fork tines. Marius led a chant before the Uno finals.
Winner got a "Divine Game Set"—which was just a deluxe travel-size version of Monopoly I had lying around on Earth.
I should have been annoyed.
But as I watched everyone shouting, laughing, trading cookies for chips, and swearing eternal vengeance over reverse cards… I smiled.
I might've accidentally founded a board game league.
Again.
But at least this time, I got to sit down, eat pudding, and watch a merchant cry over a Jenga loss like it was life or death.
So yes. I may now be known as "Grand Game Master Rika, Bringer of Joy and Judgment."
Do I understand how this keeps happening?
Not at all.
But I'm keeping the title.