While each of the nineteen pairs, one God and their chosen partner, waited in their isolated rooms, sealed away in an unknown location designed by the [Creators], the outside world was falling into disarray.
All across Earth, and even in the twenty-four other surviving worlds, chaos had begun to take hold.
It started subtly, with devices flickering on by themselves.
Smartphones, televisions, laptops, public displays, and even old, unused tech began broadcasting the same feed.
No one had turned them on. No one had activated anything.
They just… lit up.
Every screen, every panel, every projection showed the exact same image.
“What the fuck is happening, I didn’t turn this on, why is it showing this, I’m scared…”
Voices filled the air.
Streets once filled with noise and normalcy now buzzed with unease.
Cafes, workplaces, apartments, everywhere people turned, the footage followed. It was inescapable.
In the far-off worlds beyond Earth, survivors of their own divine apocalypses, those who had outlived the collapse of gods and chaos in their realms, also received these mysterious panels.
They hadn’t been told what they were watching.
But soon enough, they would learn.
No one could ignore it anymore.
Even in places without screens, like within Universal Descent itself, entities of all levels and origins could see the feed appear before them.
Panels hung in the air like crimson ghosts.
The [Primordial Dragons], the [Angels], everyone, everywhere, was forced to witness the beginning of the end.
And on every screen, five cloaked figures appeared, each of them surrounded by shadows so dense and unnatural that even light itself refused to exist near them.
Their faces were impossible to make out.
The only visible features were their eyes, glowing like distant stars, each a different, unnatural color, black, crimson, emerald, azure, and grey.
A voice echoed from the center figure, smooth yet void of warmth.
[Hello to all those listening, which should be just about everybody by now.]
There was no warmth in that greeting. No welcome. Just a fact.
Even through the screens, the presence of these figures sent a shiver through the bones of all who saw them.
It was like looking at beings that shouldn’t exist, creatures who weren’t just powerful, they were beyond understanding, above the rules.
[Universal Descent. A game… or so you believed.]
[But now, it reveals its truth.]
[Many of you chose not to participate, whether out of fear, or ignorance, or simply laziness…]
[But none of that matters now.]
[Because your fates, yes, all of you, will now be decided by the “Final Event.”]
The weight of those words struck people like a hammer.
Children cried. Soldiers froze. Families clung together in silence.
Even animals, somehow sensing something unnatural in the air, grew restless.
On screen, the [Creators] stood silently, save for one who spoke next, her voice light but unnervingly sharp.
[The Chosen Games, nineteen surviving pairs, one God and one Chosen One.]
The green-eyed woman gestured, and a soft ripple moved across the panel.
[It was twenty, originally, but… well. One pair didn’t make it.]
The next voice was deeper, masculine, and carried a cruel smirk.
It came from the muscular figure with azure eyes.
[They died. Unfortunate, or not. Depends on who you ask.]
A long silence followed.
[Only one pair will survive,] another stated.
His voice was quiet, yet final.
[The rest… will not.]
And then, four of the [Creators] laughed.
It wasn’t a human laugh. It wasn’t warm, or confused, or even sinister in the traditional sense.
Pure malice dressed in amusement.
The sound reached into people’s cores and twisted something inside them.
Only one of them remained silent, the one with grey eyes.
He didn’t laugh, didn’t smile.
He simply watched, his expression unreadable even through the haze of shadow.
“What are these things,” someone muttered on Earth, “Gods, Demons, what the hell are we even looking at?”
Panic was spreading fast.
And yet, the [Creators] were far from done.
[Some of you still don’t believe this matters, do you?]
[Just a video feed. Just another system message.]
[But let us help you understand the scale of what’s coming.]
All five figures glanced at one another.
Then, at once, they snapped their fingers.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
In that instant, across the globe, every single major country suffered a catastrophic explosion.
Entire cities were reduced to rubble.
Earthquakes followed the shockwaves.
Smoke painted the skies.
Panic turned into terror.
“OH MY GOD.”
“What the hell just happened?!”
The [Creators] stood motionless.
This was simply a warning.
[Consider that… a glimpse.]
[That’s what will happen if the wrong pairs survive.]
They didn’t elaborate who the “wrong” pairs were.
Not that it would’ve mattered.
The message had been delivered loud and clear, the Chosen Games were real, and the consequences were catastrophic.
With that, the screen shifted again.
[We’ll now leave you to wait.]
[Watch, pray, scream, do whatever you want.]
[The outcome will arrive soon enough.]
And just like that, the five figures disappeared, leaving behind only one line of text on the glowing panels:
[Wait… and you will see whether you are saved or doomed.]
Back in the isolated room, Alex had seen everything.
The screens surrounding him had played the same footage.
Multiple panels hovered before him, including a few that showed glimpses of Earth during the explosions.
He saw the cities reduced to craters, the skies dark with smoke, and the helpless panic of millions.
And yet, Alex felt… calm. It surprised him, actually.
Part of him had expected to feel rage or fear.
But he didn’t. Not now.
Maybe it was the [God of Determination] within him, or maybe it was the passive effects of his [Eyes of Cursed Void], both of which kept him grounded in moments of overwhelming pressure.
Still, it didn’t make the destruction easier to digest.
He glanced at Kaelios, who had remained quiet during the broadcast.
The [God of Destiny] stood near the other bed, arms folded, expression unreadable.
“So what now,” Kaelios finally asked, exhaling.
“Now,” Alex sat down slowly, his hand running over the bed frame, where his name was carved into the headboard, “Now we wait.”
“We can’t use our powers here either,” Kaelios said, “Anytime I try to activate a skill, this pops up.”
He showed Alex a panel that hovered before him:
[You are not allowed to do that.]
“Yeah. I got the same one,” Alex replied, “They want us powerless until the games start.”
They both grew quiet again.
“I have a feeling it’s going to be bad,” Alex muttered.
“Of course it is,” Kaelios responded with a dry laugh, “It’s the final event, it’s designed to kill us.”
“We’re probably going to die, aren’t we,” Alex said, voice flat, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
Kaelios didn’t sugarcoat anything.
“Yeah. We probably will.”
For a moment, neither said anything.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, it was heavy, grounded in shared understanding.
They were both gods now. But even gods could bleed.
“But I bet the others are thinking the same,” Kaelios added, “Except for the ones who actually believe they’ll win.”
Alex raised an eyebrow.
“Like who?”
“The [Primordial Goddess], the [God of Darkness], maybe the [God of Nightmares] or [God of Death], any of the ones whose power transcended before this started, or those whose Chosen Ones are monsters in their own right.”
Alex hummed in response.
“Then I guess we’ll see soon enough.”
He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting his thoughts drift toward the future.
There was no room for doubt. Not anymore.
Whatever the [Creators] had planned, whatever horrors were about to unfold, Alex would face them head-on.
There was no choice left. Only war.
And only one pair would survive.