"A godslayer," Vax says, a little softly. It's hard to imagine -- for all the things he fought, he could never call any of them gods. He rubs his hand down his face, before he nods. "Chosen by fate, I guess. Or dumb fucking luck."

And then he tilts his head. He frowns, but nods.

"...Yeah," he says. "I don't think this place is all light and innocence. There's something out there. Something they don't know about. It... gave me something." He pulls his iMog slate out, and extends it.

It has three Jobs. "...That."