The Voidfang hadn’t even finished dissolving when Luis saw... someone.
He wasn’t sure how he noticed at first—just a shimmer in the corner of his eye, like heat off asphalt. Some guy leaning against the alley wall, relaxed, like he had front-row tickets to a show no one else could see. But when Luis turned his head?
The man was suddenly
right
in front of him, grinning like a gambler who already knew he was losing, but bet the house anyway.
"Surprise!" Zyx chirped, flicking Luis square on the forehead. "I’m your divine plus-one!"
Luis staggered back a step. "You—wait. Other people can’t see you?"
Zyx rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. "Obviously not. You think normies get backstage passes to the apocalypse?"
Luis started to reply, but across the street, a woman in a half-shredded business suit was yelling at—nothing.
"Who are you?! Stop—stop laughing at me!" she screamed. Her voice cracked—then her hands caught fire.
Real fire.
[HOST IDENTIFIED: PYROKINETIC CLASS]
[PATRON GOD: IGNIS, LORD OF WILDFIRES]
Nearby, a teenage boy stood frozen in place, gripping his head with both hands, muttering in a whisper-shout. "No, I don’t want to drown them—I just—oh god,
make it stop
—"
Water began swirling around his feet. Not rain. Not runoff. Actual spiraling water, forming rings on dry pavement.
[HOST IDENTIFIED: HYDROKINETIC CLASS]
[PATRON GOD: NYREA, WHISPERER OF DROWNING DEPTHS]
Luis’s chest rose and fell too fast. "Every Host has... their own god?"
"Bingo," Zyx said, casually plucking a glowing notification out of thin air. It hovered like a stat screen only Luis could see:
[GLOBAL HOST POPULATION: 997,441]
[ELIMINATIONS: 2,559]
"One million minus the meat," Zyx said, chipper as ever. "Each surviving Host gets a little divine parasite whispering in their brain. Some are useful. Most just make things worse."
A delivery van came screaming around the corner—literally screeching tires—then
lifted
off the ground. Like,
floated
. It hovered ten feet in the air, the driver inside losing his absolute mind.
Behind him, only faintly visible in the van’s reflection, was a being with too many arms and an ever-shifting face, like looking through warped glass.
[HOST IDENTIFIED: TELEKINETIC CLASS]
[PATRON GOD: VORTAN, THE GRAVITY MOCKER]
The van
crumpled
. Like someone crushed it with an invisible fist. Blood burst out the seams like the world’s worst juice box.
[HOST ELIMINATED: 2,560]
Zyx clicked his tongue. "Vortan’s always too eager. His Hosts barely make it past Day 2."
Luis turned to run—on pure instinct—and smacked right into someone.
A girl. Crying. Maybe fifteen, maybe twenty. Eyes completely white. Nails digging into her scalp as she whispered, "Please... I don’t want to see it anymore. Please, make the visions stop..."
Behind her, barely there, a ghostly woman in a blindfold traced symbols on her back—runes that shimmered in midair like ink floating in water.
[HOST IDENTIFIED: PRECOGNITIVE CLASS]
[PATRON GOD: THE THREE-EYED WHISPER]
The girl’s eyes snapped to Luis. "
You!
" she gasped. "Your god is different! He’s—"
A gunshot. Fast, sharp, clean. The top of her skull vanished.
[HOST ELIMINATED: 2,561]
Luis dropped to his knees, bile burning up his throat. On the rooftop across the street, a man calmly reloaded a sniper rifle. His stance? Military. Unshakable. Eyes glowing faint gold. And just behind him—barely visible—was a shadow of a knight. Towering. Silent. One gloved hand lifted in a mock salute.
[HOST IDENTIFIED: WHI TACTICAL OPERATIVE]
[PATRON GOD: KRATHOS, THE SILENT GENERAL]
Zyx yanked Luis down behind a dumpster, ducking out of sight. "That one?
Bad news.
Krathos only picks elite soldiers. And they always—
always
—make the top 100."
Up above, the global counter ticked again.
[997,440...]