Chapter 68 – A God Revealed (and Ignored)

The air in the forest felt heavy and tasted like ozone and bad writing.

Sunlight filtered through the ancient trees in weak, dusty beams that barely illuminated the clearing.

Leo paced back and forth in front of me.

His boots kicked up small clouds of dirt with every aggressive step.

He looked like a caged animal.

He looked like an actor who had forgotten his lines and was about to scream at the director.

I leaned against a mossy rock and checked my fingernails.

They were clean.

Unlike this plot thread.

“Why aren’t you angry.”

Leo stopped pacing.

He turned to face me.

His fists were clenched at his sides.

“I am angry.”

I kept my voice even.

I kept my face bored.

“I am furious. I am seething. Can’t you tell.”

“No.”

He shouted the word.

It echoed off the trees.

A few birds took flight in a panic.

“You aren’t angry at all! You’re just… present! You’re just standing there!”

I shrugged.

“Internalized rage is a valid character trait. It’s brooding. It’s mysterious. Chicks dig it.”

“This isn’t about chicks!”

He raked his hands through his hair.

It was a dramatic gesture.

Maybe a little too dramatic for a Wednesday afternoon.

“I gave you everything! I gave you a tragic backstory! I gave you a target! I gave you a partner in crime!”

He stepped closer.

His green eyes were glowing.

Literally glowing.

That wasn’t a metaphor.

They were emitting lumens.

“Why won’t you follow the script.”

I sighed.

I pushed myself off the rock.

“Look Leo. I appreciate the effort. Really. The whole ‘betrayed outcast’ vibe is cool. It fits my brand.”

I dusted off my pants.

“But you’re trying too hard. You’re rushing the development. We need to let the angst simmer. We need a slow burn.”

“There is no time for a slow burn!”

He threw his hands out.

The wind picked up.

It wasn’t a gentle breeze.

It was a gale.

Leaves ripped from the branches and swirled around us in a chaotic vortex.

The temperature dropped ten degrees in a second.

“You were supposed to break! You were supposed to fall! You were supposed to reject your humanity and embrace the chaos!”

I narrowed my eyes.

Okay.

This was getting weird.

Even for a fantasy world.

Leo wasn’t acting like a disgruntled adventurer anymore.

He was acting like a final boss who had glitched into a cutscene too early.

“Leo. Calm down. You’re going to pop a blood vessel.”

“I am not Leo!”

The voice didn’t come from his mouth.

It came from the sky.

It came from the ground.

It came from the vibrating atoms in the air.

“And I am done waiting.”

A pillar of green light slammed into the clearing.

It was blinding.

It obliterated the shadows.

I shielded my eyes with my arm.

The wind roared like a jet engine.

The pressure in the air spiked.

It felt like gravity had just decided to work overtime.

My knees buckled.

I forced myself to stand.

I wasn’t going to kneel for a special effects show.

Not today.

The light began to fade.

The silhouette in the center of the clearing changed.

It grew taller.

Broader.

The rags Leo had been wearing disintegrated.

They were replaced by armor that looked way too expensive for a starter town.

Gold plating.

Emerald scales.

A cape that flowed like liquid shadow.

And the helmet.

Oh.

The helmet.

It had horns.

Two massive, curving, golden horns that spiraled up toward the sky.

It was the most extra thing I had ever seen.

The light vanished completely.

The figure floated a foot off the ground.

He crossed his arms.

He looked down at me with a sneer that could curdle milk.

“Behold.”

His voice boomed.

It resonated in my chest cavity.

“I am Loki. The God of Mischief. The Architect of Chaos. The Breaker of Worlds.”

I stared at him.

I blinked once.

I blinked twice.

My brain processed the information.

Loki.

A god.

A literal deity.

Here.

In the woods.

Interrupting my grinding session.

My internal monologue didn’t scream.

It didn’t panic.

It just groaned.

“Great.”

I rubbed my temples.

“Just great.”

Loki looked confused.

His sneer faltered for a millisecond.

“What.”

“Another one. Seriously.”

I gestured at him.

Vaguely.

“First I get a Goddess who acts like a burnt-out office manager. Now I get a God who acts like a theater kid on an energy drink bender.”

Loki’s face turned a shade of red that clashed with his cape.

“I am not a theater kid! I am a divine being!”

“You’re a plot device.”

I crossed my arms.

I mirrored his stance.

But I stayed on the ground.

“And a really messy one. Do you have any idea what this does to the power scaling.”

“Power scaling.”

He repeated the words.

He sounded like he had never heard them before.

“Yes. Power scaling. We are in the first arc. Maybe the second if you count the dungeon. We are supposed to be fighting goblins. Maybe an orc if we get spicy.”

I pointed at his horns.

“You are endgame content. You are a raid boss. You showing up here breaks the progression curve. It ruins the immersion. It makes the stakes feel unearned.”

Loki floated down a few inches.

He looked less like a god and more like a guy who had just been told his fly was unzipped.

“I… I came to corrupt you! I came to prove a point!”

“To who. Amaterasu.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah. I figured that out. You guys have some weird celestial office drama going on. I don’t care.”

“You should care! I am threatening your existence!”

He summoned a ball of green fire in his hand.

It crackled.

It hissed.

It looked hot.

“I could turn you into a newt! I could banish you to the void! I could make you relive your most embarrassing memory for eternity!”

“Okay. Cool.”

I checked my nonexistent watch.

“Are you going to do it. Or are you going to keep monologuing.”

Loki froze.

The fire in his hand flickered.

“You… you aren’t scared.”

“I’m annoyed.”

I stepped forward.

I looked him right in the glowing green eyes.

“I wanted a simple story. I wanted a revenge plot. Street level. Gritty. Personal. I wanted to be the underdog.”

I gestured at his floating boots.

“Then you show up. With your horns and your cape and your divine aura. And you ruin the vibe. You make it all about gods and destiny and cosmic balance.”

I shook my head.

“It’s cringe. It’s so cringe. It jumps the shark completely.”

Loki lowered his hand.

The fire went out.

He touched the ground.

His cape stopped billowing quite so majestically.

“I am… cringe.”

“Yes. You’re trying too hard. The disguise. The manipulation. The big reveal. It screams insecurity.”

I walked past him.

I didn’t even flinch.

I turned my back on a god.

“Where are you going.”

His voice was quiet now.

Small.

“I’m going to get lunch. All this bad writing made me hungry.”

“You can’t just leave! I haven’t broken you yet!”

“You can’t break me.”

I stopped.

I looked back over my shoulder.

“Because I don’t care about your game. I don’t care about your rivalry with Amaterasu. I don’t care about being a hero or a villain in your eyes.”

I gave him a look of pure, unfiltered apathy.

“I just want to be left alone. And you are being very loud.”

I started walking again.

I walked toward the tree line.

I walked toward the town.

I left the God of Mischief standing in the clearing.

Alone.

He looked ridiculous in the sunlight.

Like a cosplayer who had gotten lost on the way to the convention center.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t run.

I just walked.

The silence stretched out behind me.

It wasn’t heavy anymore.

It was just empty.

The kind of empty you feel after a bad movie ends.

I heard a sound.

A shimmering noise.

Like glitter falling on glass.

Then footsteps.

Running footsteps.

“Wait up.”

It was Leo’s voice.

The mortal voice.

I didn’t stop.

“I said wait up.”

He caught up to me.

He was panting.

He was wearing the rags again.

The dirt was back on his face.

The horns were gone.

He looked at me.

His eyes were wide.

Confused.

Terrified.

“You really… you really didn’t care.”

“I told you. I’m focused.”

I kept walking.

My eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

“So. About that guild outpost. We still hitting it tomorrow.”

Leo stared at me.

He looked like his brain was trying to reboot.

He looked like he had just seen a color that didn’t exist.

“You… you still want to do the plan.”

“Why wouldn’t I.”

I shrugged.

“The plan is solid. Information gathering. Sabotage. Revenge. It’s a good arc. I’m not going to scrap it just because you had a mid-life crisis in the woods.”

Leo stumbled.

He almost tripped over a root.

“A mid-life crisis.”

“Yeah. The horns were a bit much. But we can work with it. Just keep the divine intervention to a minimum. It ruins the pacing.”

I glanced at him.

He wasn’t angry anymore.

He wasn’t arrogant.

He looked lost.

He looked like a kid who had just realized the adults didn’t know what they were doing either.

“Okay.”

He whispered the word.

“Okay. No horns.”

“Good.”

I nodded.

“And fix your hair. You look like you got attacked by a wind tunnel.”

Leo reached up.

He smoothed down his messy hair.

He looked at his hands.

They were trembling.

“You are… the most frustrating mortal I have ever met.”

“I get that a lot.”

“You are broken. In a way I cannot fix. In a way I cannot even understand.”

“Maybe.”

I kicked a stone down the path.

It skittered into the brush.

“Or maybe I’m just the only one reading the script.”

We walked in silence for a while.

The sun began to set.

The sky turned purple and orange.

It was a nice backdrop.

Very atmospheric.

“So.”

Leo broke the silence.

His voice was tentative.

“If I am a plot device… what does that make you.”

“Me.”

I smiled.

It wasn’t a nice smile.

It was the smile of a guy who knew exactly where the trapdoors were.

“I’m the editor.”

Leo shivered.

He pulled his rags tighter around himself.

“I think I preferred it when you were just a hero.”

“Too bad. That arc got cancelled.”

We reached the edge of the town.

The guards waved us through.

They didn’t notice that my companion was a god in disguise.

They didn’t notice that I was dead inside.

They just saw two kids coming back from the woods.

“Food first.”

I pointed at the inn.

“Then planning. We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to fix this mess.”

“Fix it.”

“Yeah. You made a plot hole. Now we have to fill it.”

I opened the door to the inn.

The warmth hit me.

The smell of stew.

The noise of the crowd.

It was normal.

It was mundane.

It was perfect.

Leo hesitated at the threshold.

He looked back at the dark forest.

Then he looked at me.

He took a breath.

He stepped inside.

The God of Mischief followed the edgy loner into a bar.

It sounded like the setup for a bad joke.

But nobody was laughing.

Especially not him.

I found an empty table in the corner.

I sat down.

Leo sat opposite me.

He looked small again.

Mortal.

“One rule.”

I held up a finger.

“What.”

“If Reina asks… we were just training. You got emotional. You cried. I comforted you. End of story.”

Leo blinked.

“You want me to tell the terrifying mage girl that I cried.”

“It builds character. And it keeps her from asking questions. Trust me. You do not want her asking questions.”

Leo nodded slowly.

“Fine. I cried.”

“Good. You’re learning.”

The server came over.

I ordered two bowls of stew.

And a large ale.

I needed a drink.

Dealing with gods was thirsty work.

I looked at Leo.

He was staring at the table.

He was tracing the grain of the wood with his finger.

He looked defeated.

He looked crushed.

But he was still here.

He hadn’t poofed away.

He hadn’t smote me.

He was staying.

Which meant I still had a villain.

I still had a sidekick.

I still had a story.

It was a mess.

It was chaotic.

It was stupid.

But it was mine.

And no god with a horned helmet was going to take it away from me.

“Hey Leo.”

He looked up.

“What.”

“Nice acting back there. The crying was very convincing.”

A corner of his mouth twitched.

“I am a god of lies. I am good at acting.”

“Yeah. You are.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Just don’t quit your day job.”

He snorted.

It was a human sound.

“I think I just got fired from my day job.”

“Welcome to the club.”

I raised my invisible glass.

“To unemployment.”

Leo stared at me for a second.

Then he smiled.

It was a real smile.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

But real.

“To unemployment.”

We sat there in the noise of the inn.

A god and a loser.

Plotting the end of the world.

Or at least the end of a very specific party of adventurers.

Same difference.

The stew arrived.

It was hot.

It was salty.

It was the best thing I had ever tasted.

I ate.

I ignored the divine being sitting across from me.

I ignored the impending doom.

I ignored the plot holes.

I just ate my stew.

Because that’s what an anti-hero does.

He survives the cringe.

And he keeps moving forward.

Even when the universe tries to turn his life into a bad fantasy novel.

Especially then.