The moment they slipped into Luis's tiny apartment, Zyx collapsed onto the couch like a discarded ragdoll, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.
"Ahhh, sweet, sweet obscurity," he sighed, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Nothing like being a nobody in a sea of a million Hosts to keep you off the kill lists."
Luis locked the door, double-checked the windows, and finally let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands were still shaking.
"You said something about cheating earlier," Luis muttered, tossing his ruined hoodie onto the floor.
Zyx snorted. "Kid, there's no cheating in the Ascension Royale. The celestial audience is watching 24/7—it's the biggest reality show in the heavens. Try to break the rules, and they'll adjust the game to make your life hell."
Luis frowned. "Then what's the play?"
"The play," Zyx said, sitting up, "is to not be seen." He gestured vaguely at the world outside. "Right now, every flashy Host is painting a target on their back. The veterans, the WHI, the monsters—they're all hunting the big threats first. So we stay small. We stay quiet. And when we kill monsters, we do it where no one's watching."
Luis exhaled, rubbing his temples. "So we just… hide?"
"We strategize," Zyx corrected. "You're Level 1. You've got a god whose power is literally bad luck. You are not winning a head-on fight against a Host who shoots lightning or turns into steel. So we don't fight them. We let them kill each other first."
Luis didn't like it, but he couldn't argue. He grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, half-expecting static—but the news was still broadcasting, albeit chaotically.
"--riots in multiple districts as reports of superhuman individuals clash with military forces—"
"--monstrous creatures emerging worldwide, casualties estimated in the thousands—"
"--if you are one of the chosen, the government urges you to come forward. Protection, resources, and compensation will be provided to those who assist in maintaining order—"
Luis paused. A stern-faced official stood at a podium, flanked by armed soldiers.
"To all individuals exhibiting extraordinary abilities," the man said, voice steady, "the Global Defense Initiative offers sanctuary. Work with us, and you will be rewarded. Act against us, and you will be treated as a threat to humanity."
Luis's eyes flicked to the scrolling ticker at the bottom:
[GDI OFFERS 6-FIGURE SALARIES TO REGISTERED HOSTS]
He sat up a little straighter.
"Okay, that's tempting."
"No, it's stupid," Zyx snapped. "You think you're the first broke Host to consider signing up with the government? Half my past hosts tried it. Know how many survived?" He held up a finger. "Zero. Because the second you join a team, you slow down. You have to follow orders. You have to share kills. And in a game where power is everything, falling behind means death."
Luis chewed his lip. "But if we're alone, we're vulnerable."
"And if you're in a group, you're noticeable," Zyx countered. "The GDI? The WHI? They're farms. Veterans love hitting those because it's a buffet of weak Hosts clustered together. No. We stay independent. We stay unseen."
Outside, another explosion rattled the windows. The news feed cut to a live shot of a Silver-class monster tearing through downtown, its hulking form shrugging off missile fire.
[SURVIVING HOSTS: 996,401]
The number kept dropping.
Luis leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "So what do we do now?"
Zyx grinned. "We wait. Let the idiots burn themselves out. Then, when the time's right…" He mimed a knife across his throat. "We pick off the stragglers."
Luis didn't like it.
But he also didn't have a better idea.