## BYOG 3

  You are not prepared.

  In an act of kindness, repaying you for your effort in saving her life, Astraia has confirmed why she’s here in the fighter’s room with you, and that your worst fear is coming true: you’re about to fight one of the most skilled combatants in the circuit, who just happens to command one of the most powerful gods in existence.

  You are going to die.

  She said as much, and, for whatever reason, you believe her. You have no reason not to. After all, every single combatant she’s gone up against has died, and their god shoved back into their prison to be sold to someone else on the public market.

  Technically, Astraia Aetos hasn’t killed anyone herself. That would disqualify her from the fighting circuit, and she’d be in a federal prison. But no one can jail a god. No one can reprimand them. If another fighter is killed during one of the battles, that’s simply the price they pay for being in the ring.

  Of course, every fighter knows their god is more capable, more powerful, if they are in the arena with the gods during the battle. No one has ever offered up a proper reason why, but it’s a belief that no fighter would dare ignore.

  Winning a battle in this circuit can earn a fighter life-changing money.

  Losing a battle, even if it doesn’t lead to a death, can ruin a fighter’s life.

  This sport is not for the faint of heart.

  You know that. You were ready. You were prepared for the battle that was supposed to be ahead of you. You read the books you needed to read, and you scoured social media to learn as much as you could about the fighter you’d be facing. You know everything there is to know about Vishnu, a god that’s built around the idea of protection.

  You were ready to test those limits. You were prepared to win.

  And now you know that won’t happen. Instead, you face the real possibility that you won’t be leaving this arena at all.

  It sinks in that you should have texted someone. Told one of your loved ones that you were here, you were going to be a fighter in the Celestial Circuit. You should have said *something* to *someone*.

  Now, you’re going to die here alone. And it won’t be until the news breaks the story that your family will find out — if they even see the news themselves. You get a flash of an image in your mind, showing you what it will be like for your mother and your brother to find out from a neighbor that you’re dead.

  You watch, and you *feel* as your mother breaks down, her sobs shaking her entire frame as your brother stares into the distance.

  You pull out your phone and tap the screen a few times, pulling up your contact list. You scroll once and reach the end. Your mom’s name, Yuri, waits for you at the bottom. You tap a few more times, but before you can make the call your thumb hovers over the green call button.

  “Not yet,” you whisper to yourself, making sure to keep it low enough that Astraia cannot hear you.

  You pocket your phone and look towards the other fighter in the room. You consider pleading to her, telling her this isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. But she knows. She just doesn’t care.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  For her, this is just another fight. Another guaranteed win. An increase to her bank account.

  You don’t mean anything to her.

  The lights in the front of the room flicker. Everything about this place is so expensive, so well-kept, that the change in ambiance is enough to grab not just your attention, but also Astraia’s. You both watch the front of the room as if you expect to see something there, some kind of explanation for the malfunctioning equipment.

  Behind you, Astraia stands up. “What the hell is that?”

  You see it, too. Or, her. You see *her*, too. There’s another woman in the room, standing in the area where the lights clicked off and on. But, as you stare, you wonder if maybe your mind is playing a trick on you.

  She’s there, yes, but it’s more like an outline of a person. Someone tall, with a lithe frame and piercing eyes that might as well be drilling right down to your soul. Everything about it makes you uneasy, like you’re seeing something you shouldn’t be.

  You want to look away, but you can’t. You try, but your eyes don’t get the command. You’re no longer in control of your body. You simply exist in this space now.

  The lights fail and don’t come back. The shadows are quick to fill the space, and you realize they really are moving, wisps of inky darkness that roll and twist and shift in the open space.

  The woman emerges from the darkness, separating herself from the void as if she’s part of it. You watch as the shadows slip over her frame, sliding across her skin, serving as something like attire, but they refuse to stay still. And she cares not for modesty.

  Again, you try to look away, but your eyes refuse the command. She holds your attention and there’s nothing you can do about it.

  Her gaze moves from you to Astraia. The stranger’s lips move, but instead of hearing her words from her mouth, you hear them in your mind — in your voice. She speaks through you, just another sign you’re no longer in control.

  In your head, you hear: “Zeus is in danger.”

  You can’t look back at Astraia, but you don’t need to. For some reason, you can feel her fear, her anxiousness, as if it’s permeating through the entire room. Like you and Astraia are connected by some invisible thread.

  The stranger continues: “I am Nyx. I am the night. I am here to warn you, Astraia Aetos, that Zeus is being hunted. Your life hangs in the balance.”

  The stranger, the goddess Nyx, pauses.

  Then: “More than that, the existence of everything on this planet —in the cosmos— hangs in the balance. You must be prepared to fight. Or all will be lost.”

  In your head, Astraia’s voice slips through: “How can I fight something that can kill Zeus?”

  Nyx’s attention turns to you. Your entire body is overtaken by a gentle, but noticeable vibration.

  She says, in your mind, “He must help.”

  Your first thought becomes public knowledge in this space: “Me?”

  “Yes,” the goddess of night says. “You. And your trapped god.”

  You ask yourself, and Nyx, and Astraia because you are all one, “How can Inari fight a god powerful enough to kill Zeus?”

  Something like a chuckle reverberates through your skull.

  Nyx says, “You were lied to. *Ta-no-kami* is not in your prison cube.”

  Before you can ask the obvious question, the shadows around Nyx swirl into a violent, contained tornado in front of her body. When they separate, you stare at a god you have never seen before.

  Standing before you is a figure cast in dark robes with blood-red highlights. A katana rests at their hip, and a Japanese straw hat sits atop a white mask with a twisted grin pressed against sharpened silver teeth. The eye sockets are darkness incarnate, somehow just as black and all-encompassing as the shadows that swirl around the primordial deity of night itself.

  Nyx’s words, cast through your voice, reverberate through your mind: “This is Shinigami. A god of death. I dare say, even more powerful than my son.”

  The apparition of Shinigami remains still. You know it’s not the real god —Shinigami is tucked away in your backpack, apparently— but it’s still disconcerting to see the figure standing so still in front of you.

  Nyx says, “You both are linked now, forever. The Titans stole Zeus’s ability to kill another god centuries ago. He needs Shinigami. But you both need another, or you will fail.”

  Astraia says, “Who?”

  Another ethereal chuckle. “Life itself. Balance. You must find Gaia.”

  “Mother earth?” Astraia says.

  “Yes. You will need the immense power she contains to have any chance at defeating what’s coming.”

  The obvious question comes from you and Astraia at the same time: “What is coming?”

  “The beginning and the end,” Nyx says. “Chronos will stop at nothing to capture all the gods who have escaped their perches. Beginning with Zeus. And he’ll destroy everything to make that happen.”