There is a faint flare of light.

A sleeping teenage boy appears in the park, wrapped in a blanket, in the shadow of one of the benches.

The god's mind is bewildered. A second ago he was at home answering prayers, and now - is he in a different world?

Well. The real question is, what are the people of this world praying for?

A lot of things, given the whole world to look over.

A man prays that the good weather will hold until harvest time. A little boy asks for candy. An old woman wishes she was young again. A different, nervous, young woman hopes the Science and Technology Committee will approve her invention.

The weather can have a little luck, the boy can have his candy, the old woman can have her youth - he's not sure he understands about the Science and Technology Committee, maybe best to leave that until he's been through a bunch more prayers and understands the world better - what else?

A man prays for forgiveness of his sins, which are fairly petty as sins go. A sailor in a storm prays that the ship will make it through. A fox(?) wishes she was human again.

Luck for the sailor, humanity (and clothes) for the currently-a-fox, next?

A rich-looking couple are both praying for help having a child. Some more little kids want candy, or a pet. A group of fur-dressed people are collectively praying for luck and productivity at the new steel mill they're opening. A nurse hopes that her half a dozen burn victims recover well enough to be moved soon. A little girl deeply wants to be magic when she grows up, like those cool Witches she sees in books and posters.

Fertility, candy, candy, adorable magic kitten, luck, complete healing for the burn victims, and—all right, what is a witch, and can he make this little girl grow up to be one?

A witch is a lucky one-in-a-few-hundred female human who spontaneously develops magic at about the same time they start to get their fertility. They can fly, they are stronger and tougher, they can generate shields and use blast attacks (though the last thing is particularly tiring). And each witch gets one unique trait to add to these common ones.

He can make this little girl into a witch, sure. Making a boy into one would likely mess something up, though.

Well, there, the girl is now a witch. What else are people praying for?

That nurse from earlier has decided to pray for the healing of everyone in this hospital. There's more praying-for-forgiveness, people asking for help with a dozen small things that probably deserve a dash of luck and no more, and-

Surprising how he missed this category for so long, given how common it is now that he's looking for them...

People praying for revenge against the Neuroi. Praying for the strength to keep fighting them another day, or luck to come out unscathed. Praying that they'll decide to go away, or choose a different place to attack. Praying for their dead friends or family that were killed by the Neuroi. Praying that god have mercy on them and take away the Neuroi sent as torment. Praying to escape Venice before the repeated attacks finally destroy it.

When he investigates, the Neuroi are... Weird. They are iridescent black and red flying things that make regular, almost scheduled, attacks on anything or anyone human. If the Neuroi are alive, are people, they don't pray.

He heals everyone in the hospital. He can do that.

...

He doesn't have to investigate for very long to realize that he would prefer the Neuroi to be elsewhere. He grabs onto one of the prayers to get rid of them, and he looks at the history of the world to see - did they come from anywhere? Somewhere he might send them back to?

The little ones came from the big one, generating them like a factory. The big one came from another star, vast distances away.

Well, then, all of the Neuroi can go right back to their star.

Someone nudges the park's newest resident awake, speaking in polite Gallian tones.

"Huh?"

He sits up and blinks, looking around.

"...Where the fuck am I?"

"Ah, vous- English is not knowing. You are, eh... I find English, okay? Okay. Here you waiting, yes?"

...sure.

"Yeah, okay," he says, nodding. "I'll wait."

"Okay."

He jogs off and returns with a police officer of some sort.

"Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Cevi-chez. Are you a refugee?"

"...Mostly I'm confused," he says. "I have no idea where I am or how I got here."

Maybe it's magic, maybe he's finally broken his streak. What a thought. The first time anything magic ever happens to him, and it teleports him to the other side of the world.

"I would not know how you got here if you don't remember yourself. Are you in any pain, could you be injured?"

"No, I'm fine, except for the whole 'mysteriously lost in a foreign country' thing. Guess maybe I'm a refugee after all," he says wryly.

"Hm. In that case, I should perhaps send you to the Mâcon resettlement center. They'll know how to help you much better than I would."

"Sure, okay. Thanks."

"My sympathies for being lost. Would you like to have a meal on the government's coin down at our station? You can wait there while I arrange transport. Should be quick enough, some couriers around these parts will ferry people for us sometimes."

He smiles. "Yeah, that sounds great."