“Desperate times call for desperate measures"

Hippocrates (460 B.C. – 370 B.C.)

“Is she…” Oracle whispered as she stared at Demeter, hands clutching the precious keys at her hip.

Thoth cautiously approached the goddess and waved his hand across her face. She didn’t respond, her dead eyes staring blankly ahead.

“Her mind is gone, Oracle. The madness has rotted it away, like the others. The disease is accelerating every day, killing us off one-by-one,” he said with a resigned sigh. “We’ll all succumb before too long.”

Oracle adjusted her spectacles with a gentle finger. “All the more reason for us to hurry. The thirteenth God Contest must be launched. It’s our only hope.”

“A faint hope,” he countered as they resumed their mad dash for the Nexus chamber. He tried, with little success, to control the building panic in his voice. “We tried twelve times, and twelve times, every player met a horrifying end.”

Whispers echoed down the hall ahead of them and they ducked into the library, Thoth locking the door behind them.

“We can go through here,” she said solemnly as she opened the hidden passageway beneath the ancient desk in the back corner. “Come, we must remain unseen.”

They climbed down the stairs in silence, an oppressive air pressing down upon them.

“How do you know this time will be different?” he whispered, his anxiety getting the better of him.

She turned to look her oldest friend in the eye. “I don’t. These are desperate times, and I am grasping at straws.”

He staggered, resting his back against the wall as his heart raced wildly.

“You…you don't know?” he whispered, panic overwhelming his senses. "But…the High Lord's accusations…the abomination you created. Isn’t that the answer?”

Her grabbed Oracle by the shoulders. “Tell me what you have seen, Oracle. I need to know.”

She gazed into her friend’s desperate eyes, afraid she would see the touch of madness within. There was none—only a god at his wits end.

“I have seen nothing, old friend,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “And I shall never see such visions again.”

He gasped as he saw the truth in Oracle’s eyes. The Goddess’ eternal youth was gone, replaced with bitter mortality that would fade away in a few short years. “The High Lord…he severed you from the Nexus. You aren’t a god anymore.”

"And, in doing so, it seems, made me immune to the madness. In the century since the disease appeared, it has only infected gods, not mortals. So don’t waste time dwelling in grief, my friend. I may outlive you all if we don’t succeed here today.”

He steadied himself and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“You made the ultimate sacrifice. What kind of god would I be if I didn’t risk the same?”

***

Oracle breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the Nexus chamber, located at the heart of God Home. She opened the enormous metal doors, carved to resemble the night’s sky, and winced as their familiar creak echoed down the hallway.

The scent of musty books and flicker of candlelight would have made the chamber indistinguishable from a medieval workshop, if not for the giant orb awash in a kaleidoscope of colors that hovered at its centre.

The Nexus. The source of all life in the universe. Even after all these eons, she never failed to admire its beauty. Yet she could sense the strain within its form, and her heart sank when she saw the thin line of black tar crawling across its surface like a parasite.

This is bad. The madness has infected our creator. How long until its essence has rotted away, like that of Demeter? And what happens when it does?

Tearing her gaze from the Nexus, she rushed over to Hephaestus’s workbench and opened the hidden drawer beneath its surface. Carefully, she removed the sole item within—a cube of grey and gold that fit easily into the palm of her hand.

The most precious object in the universe.

She removed the slip of paper that Hephaestus had attached to the cube and handed it to Thoth as she approached the Nexus’ control panel.

“The thirteenth God Contest of species Homosapien. Warning: Highly unstable technological and magical fusion. Likelihood of success: Negligible,” he read, growing more grim with every word. “Negligible?”

“The madness took Hephaestus before our design was finished, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t accept his odds of success,” she replied coldly as she set the tiny cube into a perfectly shaped indentation in the panel.

“What’s the destination this time?” he asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Tokyo—a city of fourteen million people,” she said, her heart breaking as she set the coordinates. “With luck, a few of them will have the skill necessary to survive the trials until the end.”

She twisted a golden dial until she saw the destination reflected on the surface of the Nexus.

Thoth moved to the opposite side of the panel. “Ready.”

The launch of a God Contest was usually a time of celebration—a year of feasts and festivities preceded the kick off to the greatest entertainment the gods would ever know. It was the final test of a species—their final rite of passage—before the Nexus began the cycle anew.

Tonight, in flickering candlelight, one god and a now-mortal woman—and a malevolent presence unseen in the shadows—would be the only witnesses to its commencement.

She inserted her key. A chime sounded, joined by another as Thoth inserted the other key.

“On three,” she said, bracing herself. “One…”

“Two…” counted Thoth.

“Three,” finished the unseen voice, as Oracle and Thoth turned their keys.

Lightning arched across the room as the Nexus sprang to life and the cube was launched into the center of the Nexus’ dimensional mass. Thoth and Oracle were flung backwards across the room, dazed as their heads smacked against hard stone.

“Well done, Oracle. You’ve saved me the trouble of acquiring the keys myself.”

A god emerged from the darkness, his skeletal grin stretched thinly across his desiccated face. His breath filled the room with the smell of death and decay. Rotten flesh fell to the floor beneath him, and carrion creatures followed in his wake to consume it.

Cizen, the God of Death, casually strolled over to the Nexus’ control panel. “I take it the God Contest cannot be recalled?”

“Even the High Lord cannot stop it now, Cizen. The cube is one with the Nexus, and even now, the Nexus injects it with life-giving energies,” she declared. She tried to get to her feet, but let out a painful hiss and collapsed back against the wall.

“Excellent,” Cizen said with satisfaction. “Because I have my own plans for the thirteenth God Contest.”

His skeletal fingers wrapped around the golden dial, and, with a simple twist, he changed the target location.

“Cizen, you can't,” she begged, coughing up blood. “Please, we need as many players as possible.”

“No, Oracle. I only need one.”

Cizen finished his alterations and locked in the destination. The display on the Nexus changed.

The three-taloned hand of Thoth wrapped around Cizen’s wrist and pulled it away from Oracle. Dead skin formed on Oracle’s face where the God of Death’s fingers had touched.

“Leave her alone, Cizen,” he demanded, eyes lit with fury.

“If I were you, I’d be more concerned about what will happen when the High Lord arrives. The madness infects him, and your betrayal may push him over the brink.”

A thunderous crash sounded from outside the chamber, and the metal doors were blown off their hinges.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Cizen whispered to Thoth.

“You dare, Oracle! My keys! This abomination!”

The High Lord’s anger boomed across the chamber, and the workbenches rattled from the reverberations. A box of milky-white orbs flew off a shelf and soared into the Nexus—their essence added to the building blocks of God Contest.

Thoth placed himself between the High Lord and the mortal woman, his knees shaking as he shielded his friend. “W-we did what had to be done, my lord,” he said, his head bowed.

“I’m afraid I didn’t arrive in time to stop them, High Lord,” Cizen lied, moving to the High Lord’s side. “The thirteenth has been launched, and we cannot call it back. Oracle has placed our fate in the hands of the humans.”

“It was our only hope…” she tried to explain, her voice faint.

“Be silent, mortal! Was being severed from the Nexus not punishment enough for you? The thirteenth is an abomination—the sacrilege of Hephaestus, and of yourself.”

The High Lord’s gaze shifted to Thoth. “I expected better of you, God of Knowledge,” he judged, disappointed. “You shall share Oracle’s fate.”

A silvery thread materialized between Thoth’s heart and the Nexus. The High Lord snapped his fingers, and the connection shattered into a thousand pieces.

Thoth’s body erupted in pain, every fiber of his being on fire as his immortality drained away. The mortal Thoth’s eyes filled with tears as he felt the emptiness form within where magic had once blanketed his soul.

Oracle knelt at Thoth’s side as the High Lord finished their judgement.

“Oracle and Thoth, you shall be imprisoned for the remainder of your pitiful, mortal lives. You…”

“High Lord, if I may,” the God of Death interrupted. "I believe there is a more...entertaining...way to punish them."

Cizen's eyes flashed towards the Nexus.

The High Lord blinked, and a sadistic grin stretched across his face.

“Cruel, Cizen. It shall make for great entertainment. And as we all plummet towards madness-fueled oblivion, entertainment is all we have left.”

With a wave of his hand, Oracle and Thoth flew into the air, hovering inches away from the spherical surface of the Nexus.

“You shall share the same fate you have bestowed upon your fellow mortals. I cast you into the God Contest, so that you may entertain us before you die.”

“No, please High Lord,” she begged. “The Contest is already unstable. The Nexus may abort the whole thing if we…”

She looked into the High Lord's eyes and knew her words fell on deaf ears.

All that stared back at her was the madness.

Thoth reached out and grasped Oracle’s hand tightly. “It was worth it, my friend,” he whispered. “It was our only hope.”

The High Lord snapped his fingers, and Oracle and Thoth were hurled into the Nexus, their screams echoing off the chamber walls.

“What now, my Lord?” inquired Cizen, watching Oracle and Thoth’s bodies shrink into the distance.

“The God Contest has begun, Cizen!” the High Lord enthusiastically declared. “Come, we shall feast and celebrate the commencement.”

The High Lord sauntered out of the shrine, whistling a jaunty tune.

Cizen looked back at the Nexus and his skeletal grin faded away. He picked up Hephaestus’ note and set it gently on the desk.

"I have fulfilled my promise to you, old friend. The plan is set in motion. We shall see them all again soon."

Cizen followed behind the High Lord…

Into the home of dying gods.

* * *

Oracle and Thoth fell through the ether of the Nexus, their minds stretched thin as their memories were syphoned away one-by-one—crystalized and embedded within the fabric of the God Contest. Gale-force winds battered them from all sides, and Oracle lost her grip on Thoth’s hand.

“Thoth!” she screamed, desperately reaching for him as the winds carried him away.

His final words echoed across the ether long after he vanished from her sight.

It was worth it, Oracle. It was our only hope.

“I’ll find you, my friend,” she promised as her tears fell. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

With each passing heartbeat, the thirteenth’s tiny cubic form expanded as the Nexus injected it with life-giving essence. By the time it was finished, it would be the size of a planet.

The God Contest World.

From its depths, a young child’s voice projected across the ether.

“Activating assimilation protocol. Target: The Castle of Glass. The God Contest begins in three…two…one…”

The Non-Canonical Aftermath:

“What a strange chapter,” Milly observes, as she dons her hoodie to begin filming the next chapter. “Good thing it has nothing to do with me. Right, Author?”

The Author, averting their eyes, snatches a blueberry muffin off the snack tray Tapas had delivered to the Leveling Up In A Deadly Contest…With My Coworkers?! studio.

“Right, Author?” Milly prompts again with growing concern.

The Author crumples Tapas’s lovely note so Milly doesn’t recall the title of her story.

“Um…sure, Milly. Sure,” the Author assures her. “Nothing to do with you at all.”