Rowan could not remember the last time he had run this much. He sprinted through the streets of New York City, lungs burning, shoving through the chaotic flood of people doing the same. The cacophony around him was deafening—sirens screamed, helicopters roared overhead, car horns blared without pause, and terrified voices rose into a single panicked chorus. Government emergency announcements echoed from every visible screen and loudspeaker, repeating the same grim message.
The military struggled to maintain control, their attempts to contain the masses failing spectacularly. Ambulances wailed as they tried to push through the dense crowds to carry the injured to hospitals, but the sheer press of humanity made it nearly impossible for them to advance.
Rowan had just passed by one of the trapped ambulances when the city's cacophony was torn apart by a sound so loud it felt like it shattered the sky. The ground itself cracked open beneath thousands of feet. Pavement and asphalt split like paper. A massive rift opened in the middle of the street, swallowing countless people in an instant.
He stumbled, nearly falling in himself, but by some miracle, managed to cling to the broken edge of the concrete and pull himself away. For a moment, he just lay there, breathless on the fractured street, staring up at the scarlet sky.
They're probably already dead, he thought numbly. It's pointless…
No. I can't give up yet.
Ignoring the sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs, Rowan pushed his cracked glasses back onto his face and forced himself up. I'm almost there. I'm sure they're fine. It's all going to be fine. It's going to be fine, right?
He'd always been unlucky—so much so that it sometimes felt like disaster followed him like a curse. Not only did calamity strike him, but those around him seemed to suffer too.
Is this also my fault? Heh… I'm giving myself too much credit. What a narcissist. I doubt my bad luck could cause anything other than my crippling debts. At least if the world ends, I won't have to pay them back…
The morning had started like any other, but everything had changed three hours ago. Every conceivable calamity had struck Earth at once. Earthquakes. Volcanic eruptions. Tsunamis. Meteor strikes. There were even reports of a zombie epidemic in Central Africa.
New York City, in particular, had been hammered by deadly meteor showers since the chaos began.
The world ending on Christmas Eve? How ironic. What a cruel joke…
Rowan had never been particularly religious, but after the day's events, he couldn't help but wonder if some god was finally punishing humanity.
"Excuse me! Has anyone seen my son? I can't find him anywhere!"
A woman screamed with everything she had, but no one stopped to help. No one could. Everyone was too busy trying to survive. Hundreds of millions were already estimated dead. Over a billion were missing. Rescue teams were overwhelmed as the so-called "Day of Many Disasters" showed no sign of ending.
Come on, please pick up… Rowan begged silently as he dialed his ex-wife again.
No answer.
Please, God, I know I've never really believed in you, but I'm begging you… let them be safe. I swear I'll change. I won't be lazy anymore. I'll be a good dad. I'll get a real job. I'll kick the addiction. Please… just give me one chance…
He passed by the entrance to a subway station where the military was desperately trying to funnel civilians underground to shelter.
"Daddy!"
Rowan froze. That voice. He turned and saw his daughter, Liz, clinging to her mother Haley's arms in the crowd of refugees being guided inside. For the first time in years, Haley actually looked relieved to see him.
They're safe.
Before he could take a single step toward them, the world exploded.
A blinding, searing wave of fire and ash tore through the street. One heartbeat, they were there. The next—they were gone. The entire entrance to the shelter had been obliterated in a single, thunderous blast.
Rowan didn't even register the burns on his body. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground.
The world fell silent around him as the dust slowly cleared, revealing only rubble where Liz and Haley had been. There were no bodies to bury. No last words. Just absence.
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
When Rowan finally came back to his senses, his hands were shaking. Blood covered his arms. One of his fingers was bent at an impossible angle, bone jutting through the skin. But none of that pain compared to the hollow, crushing agony in his chest.
It's all my fault. If I wasn't such a loser, Haley would never have left. I could've protected them.
Why am I still here? Why am I alive?
"WHY? ANSWER ME!"
He screamed at the scarlet sky as a meteor roared down and struck the ground beside him, leveling everything in a brilliant flash of light.
When Rowan opened his eyes again, he wondered if he was dead. But he could still think, still feel. That didn't make sense.
He forced himself to look around—but all he saw was pitch darkness. Then came the murmurs. Dozens of voices, confused and disoriented, echoing from somewhere nearby.
Suddenly, a blinding white light split the darkness. Rowan squinted against it, blinking furiously. Slowly, shapes emerged—dozens of people, all strangers, looking around with the same wide-eyed confusion etched on their faces. They came from different walks of life, different countries, different everything.
Where the hell am I? I thought I died…
The group stood in a vast, circular hall. Rowan had never seen architecture like this—every column, arch, and pattern seemed otherworldly. Above them, the ceiling was painted with an enormous mural depicting a massive tree with thirty-three glowing spheres hanging from its branches. All but one shone brilliantly. One sphere was dim.
He glanced down. The floor was divided into thirty-three equal sections, arranged like a great wheel.
"Excuse me… does anyone know where we are?" a teenage girl finally asked, breaking the tense silence.
Before anyone could respond, the ground began to tremble violently. Rowan instinctively steadied himself. He'd grown used to the earth opening up beneath his feet at this point.
All around the circle, massive monoliths erupted from the ground with a thunderous rumble. Atop several of them sat colossal figures radiating an unmistakable sense of power.
Are those… thrones?
The crowd stared in awed silence at the beings above them. They had human forms, but something about them was fundamentally alien. Wrong. It hurt to look directly at them. Some of the figures gazed down with curiosity, others with boredom, and some with cold indifference.
"Hello! It's really nice to meet you! Can y—"
The same teenage girl had barely gotten the words out before something shot down from the ceiling at blinding speed. It slammed into her like a missile, sending her flying hundreds of meters across the hall.
She hit the floor with a sickening crack.
When she tried to rise, half her body was simply gone. But she didn't scream. There was no blood. Her flesh simply knitted itself back together like time rewinding.
It was only then that Rowan noticed his own injuries were gone too.
What the hell…
Floating above the girl was the thing that had struck her—a metallic automaton, elegant and terrifying. Two pairs of gleaming wings spread from its back. Its design matched the strange architecture around them, radiating cold, artificial authority.
"INSOLENT FOOL!" it thundered. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK BEFORE THE GODS WITHOUT PERMISSION?"
Gods? Rowan blinked. Gods are real? And there are… so many of them. One… two… three—
Before he could finish counting, an invisible force slammed him to the floor, forcing him to kneel. Around him, the others collapsed into the same position.
Dozens of smaller winged automatons emerged with the sound of grinding gears, surrounding the group.
They made us bow… How terrifying…
"You are present in the magnificent halls of Olympus, before the mighty Gods of the Cosmos!" the four-winged automaton bellowed. "You will show respect. You will not speak unless spoken to, and you will not gaze upon their Highnesses with your filthy eyes unless permitted!"
"Now, now, Gabriel, you're being too harsh. Stand down~"
The voice was feminine, melodic, and unnervingly playful. One of the Gods had spoken.
"Yes, Lady Eris," Gabriel—the automaton—replied, its tone tight with fear.
The invisible force vanished. Rowan slowly rose to his feet along with the others, his legs still trembling.
"Welcome to Olympus!"
The speaker was a masked woman. She wore a top hat and a magician's outfit, complete with a black coat and white gloves. A comedy mask covered her face, and long dark hair was tied into twin tails. The aura she exuded was chaotic, almost whimsical, yet suffocating.
"Earth—the world you called your home—is in the process of being destroyed."
Yeah, I kinda figured that… Rowan thought bitterly.
A few gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Ah, I knew it… divine retribution is here… Lord, forgive us for our sins…" wailed a woman in a nun's habit.
"No. It isn't exactly divine retribution," said another God, a man dressed in an immaculate suit and hat, his voice smooth and controlled. "What has happened is that your God has given up on you."
Our God?
"We Gods aren't creators or destroyers. We are preservers. Our duty is to maintain order in the worlds," the suited God continued. "However, a world's fate is intrinsically tied to its God. If the God of a world dies, the world dies with them."
Earth's God is dead?
"Excuse me, I'm sorry for interrupting, but why are you telling us this? Why are we here?" a stern man in his thirties demanded.
"Hah! Impatient, aren't you!"
This time, it was another God—a towering old man with a long white beard and grotesque black armor. His presence reeked of corruption and chaos.
"As Hermes was saying, when a God falls, their world follows. But that's only if a replacement can't be found."
Replacement for a fallen God?
A murmur of curiosity rippled through the crowd.
"Whenever a God dies, it's our duty to select a new one from the dying world's population," the old God continued. "Usually, it's a messy and fairly boring process. It often takes a few genocides to narrow it down to two potential candidates. Then we go to war amongst ourselves, and the candidate of the winning faction becomes the new God."
So Gods are all former mortals?
"But," he added, grinning darkly, "this time, under Eris's delightful little proposal, we're doing things differently."
Eris stepped forward, practically glowing with excitement.
"The thirty-two of you standing here are the chosen candidates of each of the thirty-two Gods. You will compete in an exciting divine battle royale. The winner will become Gaia's replacement and join the pantheon of the Thirty-Three Gods of the Cosmos."
"I knew it! We're the chosen ones!" a messy-haired teenager in hippie clothes shouted, practically vibrating with excitement.
This is insane… A battle royale? To become a God?
"What if we refuse?"
The voice came from a woman who looked eerily familiar to Rowan. It took him a moment to recognize her. Wait… isn't she that politician who got caught in a corruption scandal?
"INSOLENCE!" Gabriel bellowed again, wings flaring, before freezing back into perfect stillness.
"You will die," Eris said flatly. "You are the only survivors of Earth's great extinction."
"What are the benefits of becoming a God?" the politician pressed, unfazed.
"I like your confidence," Eris replied, her voice dripping with amusement. "Becoming a God means absolute authority over your world. You will be omniscient and omnipotent. You will restart the cycle of life. And you may resurrect anyone you wish. Lord Thanatos will ensure their souls are returned from the underworld."
Resurrect the dead? I could bring back Liz and Haley… But me? A God? With my luck…
The crowd stirred, many faces lighting up with desperate hope.
"When does the 'game' begin?" a red-haired man with a cruel smile asked.
"Aren't you excited?" the elderly God laughed. "The contest will begin exactly one week from now—January 1st."