The sniper's bullet missed Luis by inches—six, maybe seven—but it felt close enough to shave his soul. His ears rang, his limbs went stiff, and as he crouched behind the dumpster, the image of that shadow-knight lingered in his mind. Towering, silent, with eyes like voids that tracked not just movement, but intention.
Luis swallowed. "Wait… You said gods are randomly assigned. Why does that guy get a sniper?"
Zyx's smirk wavered, just a crack. "Ah. Yeah. So… there's a thing I didn't mention."
A new interface flickered in Luis's sight—not the public kill feed, but something older. Ancient. Text glowed in a celestial script that didn't read so much as translated itself into meaning:
[ASCENSION ROYALE: HISTORICAL ARCHIVE][PREVIOUS CYCLE: 1,000,000 HOSTS][SURVIVING GODS: 17][VETERAN STATUS: GRANTED]
Zyx waved a hand at himself. "Most of us? We get paired at random. Cosmic dice rolls. You, me, disaster in motion. But the ones who survived the last Royale?" He nodded toward the rooftop. "They get to pick."
Luis stared. "That god… Krathos… he won?"
"Twice." Zyx's voice dipped. "And he doesn't mess around. Always chooses soldiers, mercs, the disciplined ones. Guys who follow orders, who don't panic when things go sideways. WHI probably has a whole nest of them by now."
As if summoned by Zyx's words, a nearby police scanner burst to life, tangled in static and panic."All units, confirmed god-touched activity at—wait, they're inside—"Gunfire. Screams. Silence.
Luis could barely breathe. "And the other sixteen?"
"Oh, they're around." Zyx started counting on his fingers. "Sylphine—moves like smoke, picks assassins. Borr the Thunder Tyrant—likes genocidal warlords and maniacs with daddy issues. Then there's—"
A thunderclap split the sky. Three blocks away, a building blew outward from the inside, spraying fire and glass into the streets. From the smoke, someone walked. Cloaked in lightning, alive with energy. And behind them—just visible in the shimmering air—lurked something grinning, teeth too long, body warped like heat.
[HOST IDENTIFIED: ELECTROKINETIC CLASS][PATRON GOD: RAJJAK THE STORMBRINGER (3-TIME VETERAN)]
Zyx winced. "Case in point."
[GLOBAL HOST POPULATION: 997,112]
Luis watched as Rajjak's Host chased another Host—this one younger, terrified, with cactus-like spikes pushing through his skin. The spiny boy stumbled, sobbing, while the god behind him—a flickering, bug-eyed sprite—sputtered directions he clearly couldn't follow.
The lightning Host didn't hesitate. One bolt. Silence.
Luis's fists clenched. "This isn't fair."
Zyx actually laughed. "Exactly! That's the whole game, kid. Veterans get champions. The rest of us?" He motioned at Luis's muddy hoodie and shaking legs. "We get guys like you. No offense."
Above them, a screech tore through the smog. Something huge passed overhead—its outline just a blur. On the rooftop, the sniper moved again, his golden eyes flashing. Krathos, that shadowy titan, gave a subtle nod. Without a word, the operative disappeared into the chaos.
MONSTER CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM(Used Globally by Hosts and WHI Operatives)
1. Iron-Class – "Human Killers"Level: 1–10 | Threat: ★☆☆☆☆
Common in early stages. Kill unarmed civilians with ease. Die to bullets.
2. Silver-Class – "City Destroyers"Level: 11–25 | Threat: ★★☆☆☆
Can flatten buildings. Needs at least one Host or aerial strike team.
3. Golden-Class – "Country Enders"Level: 26–60 | Threat: ★★★☆☆
Collapse bridges, blackout cities, ruin infrastructure. Only veterans stand a chance.
4. Diamond-Class – "World Eaters"Level: 61–99 | Threat: ★★★★☆
Show up after Month 3. Survive nukes. Laugh at tanks. Leave craters.
5. Heavenly-Class – "Saboteurs"Level: 100+ | Threat: ★★★★★
Don't just kill—change the rules. Rare. Worst-case scenarios.
Luis's mouth went dry. "So… how are we supposed to win?"
Zyx grinned, wide and sharp. "Oh, we don't win by playing fair."
He leaned in.
"We win by cheating."