The sky above Switzerland was choked with smoke. Buildings sagged like they'd been punched by the sun itself. Fire danced between cracked roads and collapsed rooftops. Sirens howled through the ash, far too late to save anything.
And then—he arrived.
A tear in the alley's shadow split like paper, and out stepped Evodil, boots crunching on glass and carbon. He looked around once, slow and unimpressed, letting out a soft whistle at the damage.
"Damn," he muttered, brushing some soot off his coat. "Late to the party again."
Then the rocket screamed toward him.
It cut through the air like a banshee, bright red trail arcing straight at his head. He didn't flinch. A black tendril shot from behind his back, wrapping around the missile mid-air. The impact knocked him back a few inches, boots sliding along the ruined concrete as the force shook his arm.
It stopped an inch from his nose.
Evodil blinked. "Wow. Aggressive welcome."
He twisted his hand, and the tendril snapped, hurling the rocket back toward its origin. A second later, the building across the plaza exploded in a fiery bloom, metal shrapnel raining down like confetti.
He tilted his head, watching the pieces fall.
"Well. That's one way to RSVP."
He stepped forward, shadows coiling at his feet like smoke. His smirk returned—sharp, knowing, and just the right amount of pissed.
Time to see what James started.
Evodil walked deeper into the ruined city, shadows trailing behind him like oil. He summoned Crypt Blade, letting the massive weapon drag against the scorched pavement. The screech of metal on concrete echoed off what little remained of the buildings—loud, deliberate, and just a bit obnoxious.
He wasn't exactly in a rush.
The deeper he went, the more he saw—collapsed towers, shattered glass, charred skeletons of cars still smoking from whatever came before. And then, there it was.
The government building. Or what was left of it.
A crater more than a structure. Marble and rebar twisted into modern art. And right in the center of it all, standing like some kind of monument?
James.
Evodil raised a hand and waved lazily.
James didn't wave back.
Typical.
He approached, letting the blade vanish into smoke as he got close. His boots crunched over broken glass and something less pleasant. He glanced around the scene until his eyes landed on a figure near the rubble—Jasper, half-conscious, propped against a slab of stone like a forgotten puppet.
Evodil jabbed a thumb in Jasper's direction, raising a brow. "He's, uh… you know?" He made a casual slicing gesture across his neck.
James didn't look at him. "Still alive. Barely."
Evodil let out a breath, part relief, part exasperation. "Huh."
James finally turned, his eyes still faintly glowing. "They didn't believe us. I told them we were gods. They thought it was a bluff. A trick. A threat."
He looked down at his own hands, flexing his fingers once. The heat still radiated faintly from his skin.
"So I gave them proof."
Evodil's smirk flattened. "…Of course you did."
Evodil walked past James without another word, boots kicking up ash as he made his way toward Jasper.
The kid looked worse up close—burns along the arms, one eye swollen shut, blood dried into his collar. His breathing was shallow, but there.
Evodil crouched beside him, sitting lazily with one leg bent up and the other stretched forward. He leaned in and poked Jasper in the forehead with a gloved finger.
"Oi," he said flatly. "You dead or just being dramatic?"
No response.
He poked again. Nothing.
Evodil sighed, rubbing his face with one hand and muttering something under his breath about dramatic teenagers and overkill. Then he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and stared at the wreckage around them. The fires had died down. Now came the smoke, the silence, the questions.
And in that moment, he remembered.
The card.
His fingers drifted into his coat pocket, brushing against the smooth paper edges. The one with his face on it. Joker.
A slow grin started to form.
"…Actually," he muttered, pulling the card out and turning it over in his hand. "Maybe I've got a better idea."
Evodil flicked the card between his fingers, eyes narrowing at the smug little grin painted on the Joker's face—his face. He didn't notice James watching until the other god finally broke the silence.
"…What is that?"
Evodil didn't look up. "Magic paper."
James furrowed his brow. "That's not an answer."
"Exactly."
With that, Evodil leaned forward again and, without a hint of shame or hesitation, slapped Jasper across the face with the card.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"C'mon, you dramatic little corpse, do something," he muttered, flicking the edge of the card across Jasper's forehead again. "This thing glows, teleports me to card land, gives me titles… At least try CPR or something."
He paused, looked at the card.
Still Joker.
He sighed. "Useless."
He raised it as if to throw it away, arm halfway through the motion—then stopped. Squinting at Jasper again, then at the card. Something buzzed in the back of his mind. Impulse. Chaos. Intention.
"…Get up," he said, louder now, gripping the card. "Get. Up."
He imagined it. Jasper, alive, gasping, dragging himself upright.
The card burned in his hand.
In an instant, the image shifted—the Joker was gone. Replaced by a glowing, radiant sketch of Jasper, rising from the ground, wrapped in white and gold light. The energy exploded outward in a flash, a pulse so bright both gods staggered back, shielding their eyes.
And just as suddenly—
It was gone.
The card returned to normal, Joker smiling once more.
Silence.
Then—
Jasper coughed.
A dry, sharp sound, like someone drowning on air.
Both James and Evodil turned at once, stunned.
"...Holy shit," Evodil whispered. "It actually worked."
James rushed forward the moment Jasper moved, dropping to one knee beside him. His hands moved fast—checking his pulse, lifting an eyelid, glancing over the cauterized wounds that still smoked faintly from the earlier blast.
Jasper blinked slowly, eyes glazed. "…Wha—what happened?"
James didn't answer at first. He exhaled through his nose, more of a sigh of restraint than relief. Then, with a tone as calm as ever, he explained.
"There was a bomb. Planted inside the council building. Went off while we were still talking. Everyone else—" he paused, scanning the devastation around them, the broken city and the half-melted skyline. "—didn't make it."
Jasper's face twisted, trying to process it all.
James continued, his voice flat. "Then a small military force came. Armed. Coordinated. Not official—private sector, I think. Meant to clean up whatever the bomb didn't."
He stood, brushing dust from his coat as he glanced toward a scorched tank husk in the distance.
"So I did what I had to."
Evodil finally stood, brushing soot from his coat as he stepped closer. He crouched beside Jasper just long enough to pat him hard on the back.
Jasper instantly groaned and coughed, a dark splash of blood hitting the rubble beside him.
"Congratulations," Evodil said dryly, straightening up. "Didn't think you'd make it. Points for proving me wrong."
James shot him a look but said nothing. Instead, he slid an arm under Jasper's and helped him up, careful not to jar any injuries. Jasper wobbled, barely able to stay upright until James guided his hand toward the sheathed katana, letting him use it like a cane.
"You shouldn't be standing yet," James muttered, voice low but firm.
Jasper gritted his teeth, but nodded. "I'll manage."
Meanwhile, Evodil had stepped back, just enough to be out of earshot. He turned the card over in his hand again—the Joker staring back at him, smug as ever.
He whispered to himself, voice so quiet only the wind could hear.
"…What else can you do, little trick?" His eyes glinted. "And who exactly do I have to become to find out?"
James's voice cut through the smoke. "Evodil."
The shadow god turned, card slipping back into his coat pocket.
"What now?" James asked, his tone flat—measured—but something in his posture betrayed hesitation. Like he didn't like asking the question. Like it wasn't his job to ask it.
Evodil raised an eyebrow. "You're the general," he said, gesturing loosely. "God of war. Mr. Strategy. Why the hell are you asking me?"
They stood there for a moment, locked in silence as the ruins crackled around them. The sun overhead burned bright, but the warmth didn't reach.
Jasper, still leaning on his katana, finally groaned, "Okay, this staring contest is cool and all, but… maybe we should go back home? Y'know, the floating island crater that isn't a warzone?"
That snapped the tension.
James nodded slowly. "He's right. We're not safe here anymore."
Evodil stretched his neck, a faint pop echoing from his spine as he nodded in turn. "Fair."
But before either of them could move, they both paused.
Noah.
They exchanged a glance, both remembering the same thing: the signal. The heatwave. That strange, undeniable tug of divine recognition—even from deep underground.
"…He felt it too," James murmured.
Evodil sighed. "Guess we wait."
Jasper leaned back against a wall. "Fantastic. Can't wait to nap in a bomb crater."
Evodil sighed, rubbing his temple like he was trying to massage the irritation out of his skull. "In and out," he muttered. "That's all this was supposed to be. No dramatics. No war declarations. No babysitting a bleeding intern and my socially constipated brother on the brink of burning the world."
Jasper, still leaning on his sword, took a few painful steps forward. Testing his legs. His breathing was ragged, but he needed to move—wanted to move—if things went south again.
He glanced up.
Toward a half-intact skyscraper on the far end of the city, its jagged silhouette stark against the sky. Something shimmered near the top—barely a glint, like sun on glass.
"Huh," Jasper muttered. "Guess I'm seeing things, but that looks kinda like—"
CRACK.
The world held its breath.
Time didn't stop, not quite—but for Evodil and James, everything slowed.
Their divine senses screamed.
A shimmer.
A line.
A glint of steel.
The bullet was already mid-flight.
Inches from Jasper's forehead.
Both gods moved—but in that half-second, they already knew—
They were too late.
The two gods flanking Jasper moved at once—blurs of shadow and sunlight crashing forward, desperate to intercept.
Too slow.
The bullet was already there—its tip gleaming, whispering against the skin of his forehead like death's own breath.
There was no time.
No tricks.
No divine speech or clever save.
Jasper was—
A thunderous crack rang out.
But not from the bullet.
Something massive slammed between him and death—a tree, thick as a building pillar and gleaming like diamond, erupted from the ground in an instant. Bark rough, twisted, and impossibly dense, it intercepted the bullet mid-flight with such force that the impact shook the nearby rubble. A small spray of blood flicked off Jasper's brow as the bark scraped him—nothing more than a shallow line across the skin.
Jasper stumbled backward, eyes wide in disbelief.
James and Evodil collided with one another—shoulder to shoulder, both having lunged for the boy, only to find the threat already gone.
They cursed in sync—James under his breath, Evodil loud and creative.
A low chuckle sounded behind them.
"Dramatic as always," came a voice.
They all turned.
Noah, tablet in hand, sleeves rolled up and faintly glowing with the last pulse of his summoned tree, stood at the edge of the wreckage. His coat fluttered in the heat. A smirk tugged at his lips, eyes hidden behind cracked glasses that somehow made him look even more smug.
"You three really thought this was a reunion?" he said, stepping forward casually. "You're in a warzone."
He tapped his tablet once, a rune lighting up. "Don't get comfortable."
But Noah's words were cut short.
Another gunshot cracked through the air—this time from the opposite side.
His right flank.
But the God of Knowledge didn't even flinch.
In a flash of blue and white, a crystalline bow materialized in his hand, its limbs etched with glowing runes that pulsed softly. The Arcane Bow, cold and sharp like carved moonlight.
Noah raised it with a fluid motion, and the bullet struck the handle dead center, shattering on impact like it had hit reinforced mythril. A flicker of blue light rippled across the weapon, absorbing the force.
Evodil whistled low. "Youngest of us and already pulling off parries like that. Damn fine archer for a nerd."
Noah didn't bother replying. His smirk was enough.
Meanwhile, James had returned to Jasper, crouching beside him. He brushed his fingers across the shallow graze on Jasper's forehead, frowning.
"It's not deep," he muttered, raising a hand. His palm glowed—a soft, dull orange—and he pressed it gently to the wound.
Jasper winced.
"Hold still."
A faint sizzle. The smell of cauterized skin filled the air.
"There. It won't bleed out, but don't expect to swing anything heavier than a pen today."
Jasper nodded shakily.
James stood, eyes hard again. "He's not fit to fight. We need to pull out."
Noah nocked a rune arrow, scanning the rooftops. "Agreed. Before someone starts using rockets again."
James stepped forward without a word and hoisted Jasper up into his arms like a sack of slightly sarcastic potatoes.
"Seriously?!" Jasper groaned. "I'm seventeen, not seven! I can walk, y'know—even with half my bones broken!"
James didn't respond. He just adjusted his grip.
"You're heavier than you look," he muttered, which made Jasper grumble even louder.
A few paces away, Noah lowered his bow slightly and looked at Evodil with a glance that was half-bored, half-curious.
"So," he said, "want to make this fun?"
Evodil raised an eyebrow. "Fun's the only thing I'm good at."
"A bet," Noah continued, pulling another arrow into existence with a twitch of his fingers. "Whoever kills the most humans gets a lifetime pass to ruin the other's mood. No complaints. No backsies."
Evodil smirked, already stepping forward as shadows danced at his heels. "I accept."
He summoned Crypt Blade, the massive claymore screaming into his hand with a sound like tearing paper. He reached inside his coat and tapped the deck tucked into the inner pocket—just once, like a reflex, as if asking it to watch.
"Let's see if the Joker's feeling generous today," he said.
Then, without another word, he vanished into the chaos, blade in hand.
Noah followed with his bow glowing brighter by the second. "Try not to die before I win," he called.
Evodil blinked into existence atop a rooftop, shadows parting like silk as he arrived behind the sniper.
The man barely had time to react.
With a smooth swing, Crypt Blade whistled through the air and sliced clean through both of his arms, sending the rifle clattering to the ground along with the screams.
The human dropped to his knees, shrieking in agony.
Evodil wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Shhh," he whispered, putting a bloodied finger to his lips. "You'll ruin the surprise. And I'm allergic to being found."
But before the sniper could whimper a word more—
Thwip.
A blue crystal arrow punched through the man's skull from a clean distance, exiting in a fine mist that sprayed across Evodil's coat and face.
He stood there, blinking, soaked in fresh blood.
A pause.
He groaned, looking to the sky with pure offense. "That was mine, Noah! That one's a tie, it doesn't count!"
From a far-off rooftop, Noah didn't even bother turning. He just shrugged, still scanning for his next shot, string pulled taut and another arrow glowing with runes.
Evodil scowled, picked up a chunk of rubble, and hurled it full force in Noah's direction. It smashed through the edge of a rooftop two buildings over.
Noah didn't flinch.
Evodil muttered something about "cheating nerds" and disappeared in a shadow again.
Evodil jumped out of the nearest window, letting the shattered glass whip past him as he unsummoned his blade mid-fall. He landed without a stumble, boots kicking up dust and gravel, coat fluttering behind him like the wings of something that didn't belong here.
Then he paused.
Because outside, waiting at the base of the building—was a full squad. Maybe ten. Maybe fifteen. All armed. All already pointing their rifles right at him.
He raised both hands slowly, eyes flicking between the barrels aimed at his head, his chest, his gut.
"Now, now," he said, stepping back until his shoulders touched the wall. "Let's not do anything rash. Someone could get hurt."
They didn't answer. One of them clicked off the safety.
Evodil tilted his head. "We could talk about this. Maybe over tea?"
The lead soldier didn't hesitate—he fired.
The bullet met Crypt Blade, freshly summoned in a shimmer of shadow, its flat side intercepting the shot with a ringing clang.
Evodil didn't wait.
He jammed the blade into the ground.
The moment it pierced the earth, darkness exploded outward—pure, thick, oppressive. It bled into the ground, curling like tendrils through their boots.
The soldiers screamed.
One by one, they were swallowed by the shadow—dragged into the earth, their limbs twitching, mouths gasping as the floor consumed them.
And then?
Silence.
Their bones surfaced seconds later, scraped clean and gleaming white. A grim display, littered like decorations around Evodil's feet.
He adjusted his blindfold, muttering, "Told them they'd get hurt."
Evodil burfed, a rough cough scraping up his throat as he covered his mouth with a gloved hand. He grimaced at the taste.
"Ugh," he muttered, wiping the corner of his lips. "Tastes like burnt chicken and bad decisions."
He shook it off and moved forward, picking up Crypt Blade again and letting it drag behind him, the metal carving a harsh line through the cracked pavement.
He passed broken buildings, twisted rebar, half-crushed cars. A billboard was still smoldering on its side, flickering weakly with static light. The entire area looked like someone had dropped the sun and then decided to punch the leftovers. Probably James.
"Overkill, as always," he said under his breath.
But then he paused.
The silence around him grew… thicker. There were no voices. No gunfire. No Noah's smug commentary or James shouting at someone. The ruins looked the same in every direction—scorched walls and ashen sky.
He turned left. Then right.
"…Nope."
He blinked, standing still, Crypt Blade still resting against his shoulder.
He was lost.
"Of course," he muttered, exasperated. "I get kidnapped by poker cards and reality-breaking dreams, but this—this is what beats me. A damn city."
Elsewhere in the ruined cityscape, on the opposite end of the chaos, James and Jasper stood surrounded. The ground was littered with bodies—burnt, broken, blasted apart—yet the fight wasn't over. Not even close.
From behind wrecked buildings and overturned vehicles, an entire army emerged. Two hundred men, maybe more. They came armed, armored, moving in practiced formation, and they weren't interested in dying. Not today.
Jasper had barely regained his balance before he was seized. Rough hands dragged him back, rifles raised around him. James stepped forward, eyes glowing, teeth clenched.
But they didn't hesitate.
A truck screeched up behind them, back doors flung wide open. Jasper was shoved in before James could blink, and as he made one move forward—
A dozen guns turned on him.
He stopped.
Forced to watch.
The vehicle's doors slammed shut. Tires screeched. And it drove away, the mob shielding its escape with their numbers and steel.
James just stood there.
Motionless.
Until his eyes slowly fell on one of the men still within reach.
He lunged.
A single hand grabbed the soldier's chest, burning through the man's armor, cooking the flesh underneath with a hiss of fire and fury. The man screamed, but James didn't stop.
He grabbed his skull, his other hand engulfed in solar fire, and crushed inward until it melted into glowing pulp.
Ash blew past him.
"I swear on the sun itself," James growled, voice shaking, "I will have my revenge. I am the God of War."
In another blood-soaked corner of the ruined city, Noah was killing it—literally.
Corpses lay in piles around him. Dozens, maybe hundreds, possibly thousands. Some were limbless, others carved open with terrifying precision. A few had been pierced so cleanly they hadn't even fallen apart—just stood there, upright and very, very dead.
Noah sat in the center of it all, legs crossed on top of a stone pillar, tapping at his tablet. His pristine black suit was no longer pristine, streaked with crimson and viscera, his sleeves rolled up and soaked through. His once-silver-and-blue bow now glowed a muted red, coated with thin lines of gore that dried as he idled.
He scrolled down the numbers.
"Body count: 247 confirmed. Estimation: 370+ if the pile under the collapsed café counts," he muttered to himself.
He grinned, swiping away the gore on his screen. "Yeah… no way Evodil's catching up. Not unless he turns into a flesh tornado."
The tablet pinged softly as he logged another name.
He leaned back, eyes half-lidded in satisfaction, already planning what he'd say when he cashed in the bet. He owed a large part of his newfound efficiency to Ariela, who'd taught him tricks from her life-based magic—new structures, organic growths, fortified defenses. Combined with his own gift over matter, he could now conjure diamond trees, granite thorns, metallic roots that impaled and strangled anything foolish enough to approach him.
A new kind of death bloomed wherever he walked.
But then…
He paused.
No wind. No shouting. No gunfire. Not even Evodil's usual yelling or James' molten rage.
Noah lowered his tablet. The silence was sudden. Absolute.
His grin faded.
"…It's too quiet."
He stood, brushing off his bloodied sleeves and adjusting his tie. The bow dissolved into crystal dust at his side as he narrowed his eyes toward the ruins in the distance.
"They're too loud to be this quiet," he muttered.
And without another word, he leapt down, landing soundlessly as he took off into the ruined city.
He didn't know where they were.
But he had to find someone.
Because this silence?
This wasn't chance.
Even he hadn't seen it coming.