Chapter 5 : Possession

I woke up to Nixie tapping my face. "Hey, hey, hey," she said, her usual amused expression plastered across her face. It was really starting to annoy me. "You really took your time, huh?"

"Huh? What?" I mumbled groggily, still sluggish.

"Twelve hours of sleep in this situation? Fascinating," Nixie said, her tone laced with mockery. I just stared at her, too tired to snap back.

"Well, anyway, take this and meet me at the front," she said, tossing a bag toward me.

"What's this?" I asked, catching it clumsily.

"Just clothes," she replied, already walking away without a glance back.

I took a quick shower before checking out what Nixie had given me. And it was… what should I call it? Adventurer chic, or something like that.

The outfit started with a gray tunic accented by green embroidery on the back—some symbols I recognized from the temple. The matching trousers were also gray, with subtle embroidery along the sides. 

It came with a jacket too—far too stylish for my taste.

The hiking boots felt great on my feet but looked tacky, like something out of a magazine trying to convince people that hiking could be fashionable.

To complete the look, Nixie had added a necklace, an armband, and a backpack—all inexplicably matching the rest of the outfit.

They were surprisingly comfortable and easy to move in. But I still felt awkward, like I was wearing something that didn't quite suit me. Something alien.

I also grabbed the axe I'd been carrying since yesterday. There was something oddly comforting about having it with me. Its weight in my hands made me feel a little more grounded, a little less out of place.

"Now that looks nice—like a proper adventurer, a professional tomb raider," Nixie said when she saw me. "Sometimes I even surprise myself with my own genius."

"It feels… weird, like it was meant for some else," I told her as I shifted uncomfortably. 

"Oh, don't be like that…n– Did I ever catch your name?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as if trying to figure something out.

"...It's Ariane," I answered sheepishly."

"Alright, don't be like that, Ariane," Nixie said, her tone light, as if this were all just a game.

"Those clothes might actually save your life, you know? … Or at least you'll look good when you die."

I paused, gripping the fabric in my hands. Was that supposed to be funny? Because honestly? It wasn't.

I wasn't sure if she was joking or not, but hearing that made me doubt the situation I'd gotten myself into.

I let out a small, awkward—out of habit, not the having-fun kind of—laugh. "Right. Well… what's the plan here?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation somewhere less depressing.

Nixie's smirk didn't waver, but her gaze shifted, like she was more focused now. She still had the easygoing vibe, but beneath it, there was something else.

Nixie grabbed a map from one of the shelves and a notepad from her table, flipping through the pages before jotting something down. I watched as she marked the map with quick, deliberate strokes.

Curiosity tugged at me. I leaned in slightly, trying to peek at the locations she was marking. They looked… oddly familiar. Too familiar.

Ruins—the same ones I had wandered through before, the ones I had visited in the past. Places that were basically just tourist traps.

I glanced from the map back to Nixie. "So… you want me to steal relics from… museums?" I asked, the words coming out slower than I intended, like I was still processing them myself.

Nixie waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, no… of course I don't steal," she said, her voice light, almost playful. "It's more like I'm keeping it safe until all this blows over."

She smiled, but there was something else in her eyes—a glint of mischief that made it hard to tell just how serious she was.

"Or… maybe I'll keep it. Just maybe." She said it so casually, like it didn't really matter. But somehow, that only made me trust her explanation even less.

Well… that's reassuring. So now I have to be a thief to survive. Great. Just great. As if this whole situation wasn't already ridiculous enough.

"Alright… So where am I going first?" I asked, getting the feeling she'd been waiting for me to take the bait before actually telling me the plan.

"You, my little helper, will be heading to the ruins of Kael, the war god," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Wait… what? You're serious?" I blurted out, a flicker of panic creeping in. "Why that place first? Isn't that a bit much? That's like fighting the final boss at level one! I mean, it's a war god, right?"

She gave me a look, like I was the one being ridiculous. "What are you talking about? It's not like you're actually going to fight a war god," she said, sounding almost amused. "I just picked that spot because it's nearby."

"Oh… right. Of course," I muttered, I felt my cheeks burning red. Hoping to move past that quickly, I cleared my throat. "So… what exactly am I supposed to get from these ruins?"

"Apparently, there's some kind of helm in those ruins," she said. "The locals claim it helps you stay focused, even in the most panic-ridden situations. So, naturally, I want it. Seems like it'd be useful when I'm doing my taxes—or something like that."

I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was actually serious.

"Okay, fine…" I sighed, the unease still lingering. "Do I just head out now, or is there something else I need to know?"

Nixie smirked, folding her arms. "Impatient, are we? I like that."

Then, with an exaggerated shrug, she added, "But no, no last-minute wisdom or dramatic warnings. Just… try not to die. Oh, and—" she reached for something, then handed me a small box. "Take this."

I grabbed the box and flipped it open. Inside was a small gun, similar to the one Nixie used—though maybe a little bigger? Alongside it were extra bullets… or were they magazines? Whatever they were called, they looked just as intimidating.

Holding a gun felt unnerving. I'd handled a flare gun before, but this was different. This wasn't meant for signaling or emergencies—it was meant to hurt someone. It felt cold, too serious, and far too real.

"No way… I'm not taking this," I said quickly, my fingers twitching as I set the box down. "I'm not comfortable with it. I don't even know how to shoot."

"It's not like you're going to use it," Nixie said, waving off my concern. "Just take it—just in case."

"I don't want to," I insisted. "I'll just… figure something out if something happens." My voice wavered slightly, but I tried to sound firm.

"Just take it, okay?" Nixie said, her tone more insistent now. "Don't use it if you don't want to," she added, already securing a holster around my thigh. "It's better to have more than just that axe as an option."

I glanced down at the holster, then back at Nixie. "Options, huh?" I muttered, my voice unsteady. "Let's just hope I don't end up needing any of them."

I left after that. Holding the gun made everything feel heavier—like this was my reality now.

I don't want to kill anyone. Not anymore. But… is that really how things are now? Kill or be killed?

I don't want to accept that. But with everything happening around me, it feels reckless—maybe even dangerous—to cling to that kind of thinking.

Still, a part of me stubbornly held on to the hope that there might be another way.

Getting to the so-called "ruins of the war god" felt… easy? Too easy. Maybe I was just getting used to this after everything that happened yesterday. My injuries still stung, but they were manageable now, nothing compared to before.

I stayed alert, scanning for any locals, but the roads were strangely empty. The quiet was unsettling, pressing down on me the closer I got. I didn't like it.

This ruin was actually the first one I visited when I started exploring the island, and honestly? It's probably the most testosterone-fueled place I've ever seen.

Massive stone pillars, towering statues of warriors, and endless carvings of battle scenes covered nearly every surface. The courtyard was littered with old weapons—spears, curved blades, short bows. They weren't metal, mostly wood—lightweight but sturdy, built for the island's climate.

Back then, I'd worried about someone misusing them, but the guide reassured me that no one would even think about it anymore. Looking at them now, stained dark red, I wasn't so sure.

The smell hit me first—rot and blood, thick in the air. There was a fight here, a brutal one. Probably tourists trying to fend off the locals. Blood covered the pavement, streaked the walls, soaked into the very weapons I once thought would never be used.

The flickering torchlight only made everything worse, stretching shadows across the ruins, making them feel alive. Foreboding. Waiting.

"Wait... torches?" The thought made me drop down almost immediately. How could there be a lit torch here? Someone was here. I couldn't see them, but they were watching.

My chest tightened with fear, but it also made me more careful.

I looked around, scanning the area. Every shadow felt dangerous, every sound sharper in my ears. My eyes strained, trying to catch any sign of movement. And there was… nothing.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just overthinking—but something about this feels wrong.

I moved closer to the walls, narrowing the space I had to keep an eye on.

The air felt heavy with something I couldn't quite name, like the whole ruin was waiting for something.

How am I even supposed to find that helm? Nixie didn't describe it properly—she just said I'd know it when I saw it. What does that even mean? How am I supposed to trust that when I don't even know what I'm looking for? Just one more reason not to trust Nixie.

She did say it was in the middle of the ruins, so that's a start, I guess? I slowly made my way to the temple—the most central place I could think of. Normally, this area was off-limits to tourists, so maybe the helm was in here?

The inside was… massive. A layer of seating curved around it, almost a perfect circle. The stone benches were worn down, probably from the countless people who once sat there, watching whatever took place in this arena. Places like this always gave me the creeps—once full of life, now completely empty.

On the ceiling, a mural depicted a warrior standing above everyone else—Kael, the war god.

The center looked like an arena, its ground flat and even. There were signs of indentations, though it seemed like the locals had tried to restore it. They didn't do a great job. Some areas bore dark stains—probably blood—and broken weapons were scattered all over, as if a fight had taken place here not too long ago.

And in the middle, there was some sort of case—a podium, maybe?—and the helm just lay there, untouched. The glass was broken, which was a huge red flag, by the way.

The helm of the war god looked like a masterpiece—the peak of both craftsmanship and intimidation. Forged from a dark, almost ominous metal, it gleamed under the sun with a luster similar to gold or bronze. There was something unnatural about its sheen, almost supernatural.

Its design blended practicality with the fierce beauty of the island's culture. Etched along the sides were intricate carvings of waves, storms, and battle scenes, depicting warriors clashing under the watchful gaze of their deity.

That helm was mesmerizing. I could feel the untamed dominance and spirit of the island just by looking at it. Despite its age, it remained untouched by rust, as if the war god's presence still lingered within it.

I walked toward it in a hypnotized-like trance.

And that was a huge mistake.

My hand was just about to touch it when a pair of huge hands grabbed my clothes and yanked me back. It felt like I was thrown clear across the arena. Pain flared through my back as I crashed against the wall.

"A MORTAL DARES TO STEAL FROM ME?" A loud, booming voice echoed through the arena. "ME? THE GREAT KAEL!" His tone was filled with irritation, but there was a hint of amusement beneath it.

Still writhing in pain, I tried to focus my gaze on the source of the voice.

It was a huge man… a really huge man.

Gideon looked big, but this guy made him seem almost average.

The big guy grabbed the helm and put it on.

I wasn't sure if I was just seeing things, but it felt like there was a flicker of energy—like a spark of lightning—when the helm met his head.

He wore a black button-up shirt under a dark jacket, paired with black jeans. His polished black dress shoes completed the look—he reminded me of the bouncers I'd seen on TV.

But this one was different.

He exuded authority, carrying an intimidating presence that felt almost suffocating. The helm didn't exactly match his outfit, but somehow, wearing it only made him more terrifying. The red mist surrounding him like an aura didn't make him any less scary.

Am I actually in the presence of a god? Am I really about to fight a god?

He fixed his gaze on me, and I froze.

"A woman dares to steal from me?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with disgust. "Pathetic. In my time, women knew their place—serving, watching, obeying. Not prancing around like warriors, thinking they can claim what belongs to the gods."

He just stood there, his eyes flaring gold with anger.

"Tell me, little girl, do you truly believe yourself worthy? Or has the world grown so soft that even the weak now think they are strong?"

I tried to stand up properly, my body still aching from being thrown across the arena.

Yeah… he was terrifying—a seven-foot-something war god, eyes glowing gold like a lightning strike, and a voice booming like a thunderstorm. Definitely someone I wouldn't want to be anywhere near.

But holy shit… he's a fucking misogynist.

"Oh no," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "A big, scary guy thinks I should be in the kitchen. So scaaaaary."

A thought flickered in my mind—I could probably distract him with this. And for the first time, my inner voice might actually be right.

I tried walking slowly toward the entrance, wincing as my back protested in pain.

"You know... you were pretty intimidating at first. The voice, the godly presence—very effective. But then you opened your mouth, and wow. Pure trash. Turns out the scariest thing about you is just how filthy that mouth of yours is."

I was almost at the entrance, ready to bolt. Screw this task—I'd rather swim in the open sea than fight this god-like guy.

Nixie probably wouldn't understand, but between dealing with her and facing him? I'd take my chances with her any day.

The guy claiming to be a god laughed, his voice booming like thunder.

"You think your puny distraction is enough to escape me? HAHAHAHA! You are wrong!"

He raised his hand, and suddenly, dozens of locals stepped out of the shadows, armed with swords, spears, and all sorts of weapons, blocking the exit.

The locals began attacking me. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it, but it felt like they weren't trying that hard.

I dodged them easily, even managed to incapacitate a few. But by the time I realized they were deliberately guiding me somewhere, it was already too late.

I was cornered in the middle, surrounded by the locals in a tight circle.

"Pathetic! You let yourself get trapped so easily—LIKE A RAT!" His voice was taunting, filled with amusement. "Show me your spirit, little girl! Defeat everyone here, and I might just let you escape!"

Defeat everyone here? How is that even possible? There must be at least a hundred people surrounding me. I can't handle that many—fighting just two already feels hard enough.

And yet, every single pair of eyes was locked onto me, waiting for my next move.

"Since I'm a benevolent god, I'll make this easy for you—they will only attack one at a time," he said, almost as if he were reading my mind. "Let's see how long you last!"

With a wave of his hand, a throne of bones materialized. He sat back, watching me like I was nothing more than a form of entertainment.

I gripped my axe as hard as I could. I knew from the very start that this was an impossible task—Nixie sent me here to die. Whatever she was planning, I would never know.

But I couldn't just give up, right?

A local swung at me. I dodged to the side and struck the back of his knee with my axe. I felt his bone break when I hit him.

Another one came, and I did the same. And then another. And another. I dodged all of them. It was easy—they moved a little fast but were also predictable.

The floor became filled with the blood and bodies of the locals, most of them unmoving but still alive… I kept them alive.

There was no end to them. I could feel my previous injuries starting to burn, my heart pounding like it was about to explode. My lungs screamed in pain with every breath.

And the red mist spreading around the arena didn't help at all. It made me feel more tired than I actually was.

"Woman! What are you doing? MORE BLOOD!" the alleged war god shouted, his voice filled with anger. The mist intensified, as if trying to match his mood.

I pretended not to notice him and focused on the enemy in front of me. He lunged, but I countered with my axe, swinging at his legs. When he knelt down, I struck him in the shoulder with the back of my weapon.

"TOO SOFT!" His voice boomed, echoes filling the arena. He raised his arms, and two more locals broke from the line, charging at me.

This time, they were faster—and for some reason, more coordinated. One aimed for my head with a pipe, while the other went for my legs.

The unexpected teamwork caught me off guard, making me stumble backward. They followed up with the same pattern, almost landing a hit—until I tripped over one of the bodies on the floor.

Fighting in this mess was a nightmare. I had to watch my footing, and the blood made everything dangerously slippery.

I refocused, trying to fight the way I had before—but it was so much harder now. The locals compensated for each other's weaknesses, their movements in sync.

I was struggling to target non-lethal areas.

I glanced at the war god for a split second and saw him smiling. He knew I didn't want to kill anyone, and making things harder for me amused him. He was enjoying this way too much.

For a brief moment, I almost wanted to grab my gun and just shoot him in the face.

That thought distracted me—just long enough for pain to explode through my left arm.

A third local, from my blind side, had struck me with his pipe.

"You fucking cheat!" I shouted directly at the god, my voice raw with pain.

I think my bone broke from that hit.

I tried swinging my axe, but with only my right hand, it was impossible. Gritting my teeth, I dropped it and grabbed one of the short-bladed weapons from the ground instead.

The locals kept coming, relentlessly. I still managed to fight them off, but it was so much harder now.

"That's right! STRUGGLE!" the god shouted. And he was right—I was struggling.

Hitting someone with a shorter weapon was much harder than swinging an axe. It required way more coordination… and I had none of that. My body ached, exhaustion weighed on me, but I pushed through.

I stabbed and slashed continuously, cycling through at least four different weapons as they broke too easily in my hands.

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping me standing. I'd been hit so many times I'd lost count, pain blurring into a constant, dull throb. But I kept swinging.

And somehow, after what felt like an eternity—I was the only one left standing.

No time to celebrate.

I fixed my gaze toward the throne, but… he wasn't there.

Before I could even process that, a force slammed into me, launching me across the arena.

I was airborne before the pain even registered. And when I crashed into the wall, I knew—I messed up.

I was dying. Probably.

Lying there, I stared up at the sky. The weather was nice, at least. If I had to die, this wasn't the worst view to go out with.

But… I couldn't just give up, right? My parents didn't raise me to give up.

I forced myself to stand, my body screaming in protest. My vision blurred, doubling. Blood soaked through my clothes, and I was pretty sure some of my ribs were broken—no way to tell how many.

Then I saw him.

The god stood there, watching me, a monstrous hammer in his hands—comically large, yet somehow not ridiculous in his grip.

Its metal gleamed, the same ominous sheen as his helm.

"So, you still refuse to kneel, mortal woman?" He put an emphasis on woman that made my blood boil.

I just pointed my weapon at him in response. Even that small motion made my vision swim—I felt like I was about to pass out.

"Such a typical woman," he sneered. "Not knowing your limits. Not knowing when to give up—stubborn, emotional, clinging to a fight you've already lost." His voice dripped with condescension.

"What do you mean I lost?" I shot back, trying to sound confident. "Look around you. I've defeated all your lackeys. There's only you left."

The words were meant to be strong, but my voice shook—I probably sounded as weak as I felt.

"Foolish woman," he scoffed. "You actually think what you did matters?"

He raised his hand, and the red mist slithered like living tendrils, coiling around the fallen bodies of the locals.

The bodies started getting up. They had already looked zombie-like before, but now? Now they were zombies.

They moved in jerky, unnatural motions, dragging themselves forward even as parts of them fell apart. Bones cracked, muscles tore, and I could hear the sickening squelch of tissue ripping as they struggled to stand.

"THIS IS MY ARMY!" the god bellowed, his laughter ringing through the arena. "Unyielding! Unrelenting! Unstoppable! Undying!"

His golden eyes burned as he looked down at me. "Foolish woman! You thought you were helping by sparing them? Now, you will join them."

I just stood there.

Frozen.

I couldn't move. I wanted to, but my body wouldn't listen. It was broken. I was broken. I could barely stand—how was I supposed to run?

I didn't want to die.

I wanted to cry.

But I wouldn't. Not with him watching.

I might die here, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Fuck… I haven't even done anything with my life, have I? I was just starting. But it ends here.

The locals were circling me, closing in, trapping me in the middle. And when they reached me—

I couldn't even imagine what they'd do to me.

Flashes of the receptionist, barely clinging to life, filled my mind. The people I left behind yesterday, the ones I abandoned to save myself—they haunted me now.

If I had known I'd just end up dying today, I should've helped them.

I don't want to die like them.

That didn't matter now. Regret wouldn't save me.

I had to think—was there anything left I could do? Anything at all?

Maybe I could bargain.

No.

I would rather die.

"Do you want to live?"

The thought surfaced in my mind, sharp and foreign. It wasn't mine. It felt different—like someone was whispering directly into my head.

This wasn't just panic, wasn't just my mind playing tricks on me.

It felt real.

"Of course I want to live," I muttered. My voice was hoarse, barely more than a breath. Is this what happens right before death? Was I losing my mind? Hallucinating? Or was someone actually speaking to me?

"What are you willing to do… to survive?"

I hesitated.

Anything. That was my first instinct.

But I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to think.

"Anything…" I muttered, still confused. "Well, at least anything that doesn't go beyond my morals."

I could feel the voice laughing at me. There was no sound, no shape—just the unmistakable weight of amusement pressing into my mind.

"Okay then," it said smoothly. "Rest. I'll take care of everything."

The world shifted.

It was dizzying, disorienting—like reality had been snatched away and spun violently in all directions. My vision blurred, my balance crumbled.

And then… everything stilled.

Except now, I wasn't in my body. I was watching it—watching myself from somewhere else, from someone else's perspective.

My body stood rigid, convulsing slightly as red mist curled around it. Then, as if pulled by an unseen force, the red mist was swallowed by something darker.

A black mist seeped into existence, thick and heavy, almost solid. It coiled around my form, wrapping me in a suffocating embrace.

And then—

Wounds closed. Bruises faded. My body stood straighter.

But the worst part wasn't that it was healing.

It was the expression on my face.

Blank. Emotionless.

Then, a slow grin stretched across my lips—unnerving, unnatural.

It was the same grin.

The same one I'd seen before.

The same one worn by the entity that haunted my dreams.

"Well, well, well—this looks depressing," my body spoke, its voice laced with sarcasm—a voice I could never pull off.

"Not for me, though."

It sounded… confident. Amused. In control.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" the war god bellowed.

I could see it—fear. The sweat forming on his brow, the slight tremor in his voice. He was afraid.

My body turned its gaze toward him, grinning wide. Then, in the blink of an eye—

CRASH.

The god was on the ground.

My body was on top of him.

"How dare you speak in my presence?" my body sneered, the grin still in place. But the air around it burned with anger—I could feel it.

The god roared, shoving my body off with inhuman force. I watched, heart lurching, as it was sent flying—so high that for a moment, I thought—That's it. I'm dead. There's no surviving that.

But then—

My body twisted midair, maneuvering itself effortlessly. And when it landed—It was flawless.

"Ohhh, this is bad. This body is so weak," my body muttered, sounding almost disappointed.

Somehow, that offended me.

"I guess I need to at least put in a little effort?" it added, as if it was doing me a favor.

"EVERYONE, ATTACK!" the war god roared.

The locals sprang to life, dragging their broken bodies toward my body—each one moving with deadly intent.

"Now this brings back memories," my body mused, casually picking up a short blade. It twirled the weapon between its fingers, its movements fluid, almost playful.

"Entertain me for a bit," it called out.

The first local lunged—

SHNK.

A clean stab to the neck.

"Oh no! I can't do that, right?" my body said suddenly, turning its head—Looking right at me.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't die," my body said, almost lazily.

It pointed a hand at the local it had just stabbed, and tendrils of black mist seeped from its fingers, slithering toward the fallen man. The moment the mist touched him, his wounds vanished.

Everything blurred after that.

My body moved like a natural disaster, an unstoppable force ripping through the horde. The locals attacked all at once, but it didn't matter—it cut through them like they were nothing. Every move was precise, calculated, lethal. It fought like it knew exactly how to hurt someone in the worst possible way.

Every time a local managed to land a hit, black mist coiled around the wound, sealing it almost instantly. The injuries disappeared, but the pain lingered—I could feel it. And when my body dealt a fatal blow, it would simply heal them, and then hurt them in a much less fatal way.

It didn't even take ten minutes.

The locals lay sprawled across the ground once more, unmoving. Only one remained standing.

The god.

My body looked bored. Like all of this had been nothing more than an inconvenience, a brief moment of amusement.

But I knew the truth.

I could feel it.

My body was already at its limit again. But whatever was possessing me? It didn't seem to care. Maybe it didn't even notice.

"And now," my body said, pointing its blade directly at the god."It's your turn."

"Enough of these games!" the god shouted, charging forward.

"Oh? But I was just starting to enjoy this." My body grinned in anticipation.

The ground trembled with every step he took. Lightning flashed with each swing, and thunder clapped whenever his hammer struck. But my body was too fast. It dodged or deflected everything the god sent its way. Each time the hammer hit, it left a crater where I had stood moments before.

"Too slow." My body's voice dripped with amusement.

It lunged, blade flashing, aiming straight for the god's throat. But he was still a god, after all. At the last second, he blocks with the shaft of his hammer. Sparks flew as their weapons collided. My body backed off, only to strike again in an instant, its blade pressing toward the god's chest. But his strength was immense—he shoved my body back and charged once more.

My body was a fraction too slow this time. The god swung his hammer, striking my side with crushing force. I slammed into the wall, the impact carving a crater into the stone. Pain flared through me, far more intense than before. It made me wonder—had he not even been taking me seriously until now?

"Well, that hurts a little."

My body raised its hand, black mist flowing from its fingers and wrapping around the wounded area. Healing, perhaps? The mist was still too vague to tell. For now, my body focused on dodging, likely buying time to recover.

"You act mighty, but in the end, you're just a FRAIL MORTAL!"

The god roared, lifting his hand into the air.

A shockwave of red mist erupted from the god's body, surging toward me like a living force. My body barely dodged, rolling to the side as the mist struck the ground, corroding the stone with a sharp hiss and deep cracks.

"That's new." My body still grinned, as if none of this were serious.

The god hurled his hammer, the weapon spinning like a meteor, whistling through the air. My body ducked—then, somehow, caught it mid-flight, using its momentum to hurl it right back. The hammer struck the god's face, knocking off the helm I needed to steal.

"Well, that's one thing off the checklist," my body said with mocking sarcasm.

But then—the god vanished. My body's eyes darted around, scanning the battlefield, bracing for where he would strike next.

The god materialized behind my body, seizing it in an iron grip, trying to crush it. Pain shot through me—maddening, unbearable—but my body still grinned. It stabbed into the god's arm, over and over, his blood spraying across my face. The grin twisted, now painted with crimson, turning something menacing.

With a snarl, the god dropped my body.

In a blink—before he could even register what had happened—

SLASH

My blade carved a deep gash across his chest. Black mist coiled into tendrils around his arms, locking them in place.

"What—" the god gasped, confusion flashing in his eyes.

SLASH

A second wound tore across his stomach.

He thrashed, but the mist's grip held firm. He couldn't move.

SLASH

A third cut split his mouth.

The god knelt, his body trembling from the pain.

"You know what's funny?" My body's voice dripped with mockery. "You called me weak. But look at you now."

It leaned in close, blade pressed near his throat.

Then, with a casual swing—

THUNK.

The blade met his neck.

"Hey! Can I at least kill this guy? Nothing good will come from keeping him alive!" My body turned toward me.

I froze.

But before I could speak—

The god roared.

The entire arena trembled.

Red mist swirled around him, condensing into a sphere.

I had seen this before.

This was bad.

"Hey! I need an answer—now!" My body shouted, panic creeping into its voice.

But before I could respond—

A brilliant light.

A deafening explosion.

The arena was gone. Nothing but a massive crater remained. Everything—everyone—was destroyed.

I half-expected my body to be gone, too.

But as the dust settled, it stood there, looking annoyed.

"The coward escaped," it muttered, turning its gaze to me. Then it strode toward the fallen helm. "This is what you needed, right?"

The world shifted again, just as violently disorienting as before.

When everything settled, I was back in my own body—aching, battered, and feeling far more injured than before.

Then, a thought surfaced in my mind.

"I've done my job. It's up to you now."

And just before the darkness took me—

"Oh, and don't even think about telling anyone."