Chapter 1: Son of a Bitches!!!
Adrian Phivin Lixson, thirty-four years old and a businessman, walked alone through the city streets of Liphas as the rain slowly poured down. Water soaked his shoes and darkened the cuffs of his pants. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw tight. He was irritated, exhausted, and angry. His seniors had dumped more work on him again, keeping him in the office until eleven at night.
He paused beneath a dim streetlight and glanced at the worn watch on his wrist.
"It's already 11:34 p.m.," he said quietly.
"I'm tired," he muttered. "It's already this late, and I still have work tomorrow at eight in the morning."
His grip tightened around his bag.
"This is all their fault," he said through clenched teeth. "Those seniors… they're probably sitting in some flashy bar right now, drinking and laughing with women—loud music everywhere, annoying drunk people, clinking glasses, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol filling the air. And later… they'll probably be completely wasted, passed out on some couch, snoring. Those bastards… leaving their paperwork to me just because they're in a higher position."
He exhaled sharply.
Their annoying orders kept replaying in his mind, gnawing at his patience and deepening his irritation. Earlier that same night, at 8:43 p.m.
"I'm finally done…" Adrian exhaled under his breath, carefully stacking the paperwork into a neat pile. The faint hum of his computer filled the room while he hovered his hand over the keyboard, hesitating for a second before shutting it down.
He leaned back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes drifting toward the glass window.
"What's dinner tonight…?" he muttered, voice low, almost tired. A pause. Then a small, resigned sigh slipped out of him.
"…Guess I'll just reheat those leftover dumplings… and that sweet glazed chicken the landlady gave me the other day… from that Chinese restaurant downtown."
His lips pressed into a thin line.
"…Yeah. That should be enough."
Before he could finish packing, he heard two familiar annoying voices that instantly made him tense.
"Hey, Adrian," one of them called, stepping forward with an unfinished report in hand. "You're done here, right?"
Adrian looked at the papers. "Yes sir wackin I… I was about to leave," he said carefully.
The man's arrogant entitled tone didn't change. "Good. Then finish this report before you go. Don't leave it half-done."
Another voice chimed in from the side, lighter, almost casual.
"You're still young, you know. A little more experience wouldn't hurt." He shrugged as if it were something simple—like one plus one. "Who knows? It might even help you move up… maybe land you a promotion someday."
They glanced at the wall clock and gave a small, dismissive smile.
"Besides, staying a bit longer won't kill you. It's still early anyway."
Adrian clenched his teeth, his right eye twitching with irritation. He forced a smile, nodded slowly, and picked up the report.
"Alright. I'll finish it tonight."
One of them laughed. "Clean up the files too. We're heading out."
Adrian watched as they turned their backs without another glance.
"Ah, one more thing," another voice added. "Have everything printed and ready by tomorrow morning. Our new client, Mr. Jose, is very strict and particular about this project—he doesn't tolerate mistakes. Check everything carefully and make sure it's complete before you submit it tomorrow morning."
No "thank you."
No "good luck."
Just laughter, idle conversation, and footsteps fading out of the office.
Adrian's fingers dug into the strap of his bag.
"Entitled, useless pieces of shits!" he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. "They're abusing their authority, just because they are my seniors in this company! This isn't even my job!"
His voice lowered further with anger.
"I'll make you all pay, someday!"
This week alone, it had happened six times in a row. "OK" Back to the present.
He walked to the nearest roadside bench and sat down to wait for a taxi. The bench was cold and slightly damp. Rain tapped steadily on the metal roof above him. He leaned back a little and stared at the empty road.
"Are there even any public utility vehicles at this hour?" he muttered.
"Yesterday, I waited a whole hour just to get home."
The rain suddenly grew heavier, falling harder and faster. The sound swallowed the entire street. At this hour, in this kind of weather, only one car out of a hundred would pass by. The road ahead was empty—completely empty.
Adrian clenched his bag against his chest.
"Fuck this weather," he said. "I just want to go home and rest."
He then reached into his bag, took out his phone, and started scrolling through posts online.
A loud thunderclap cracked across the sky. The sound was so loud that the bench vibrated slightly. It made him flinch, causing him to drop his phone and crack the screen.
"Shit…!"
He picked it up and stayed seated for a few moments.
Then he raised his middle finger toward the dark sky. "If those gods of thunder are real," he muttered, "then fuck you. Seriously. You're nothing but a bunch of imaginary false gods. People only worshipped you because they were fucking ignorant!!!"
"Or maybe they were just high on weird plants, mushrooms, whatever the hell they found in the wild. Walking around caves, breathing in strange gases, hallucinating like crazy and thinking they saw a god. Hmp… Being a god in a place like that is easy when everyone there is hopelessly ignorant, gullible, and completely clueless."
He leaned back on the bench and stared up at the cloudy night sky.
"Yeah, just like that perverted old man in the clouds. And the thunder guy carrying a hammer, or whatever they call him," he sighed in irritation. "If any of them are actually real, then seriously, fuck you both for ruining my night! Seriously! Suck my D—"
Before he could finish, the cloudy, rain-soaked sky suddenly flashed white.
Followed by a deafening thunderous boom that shook the sky
*KRAA-BOOM*
A bolt of yellow lightning struck right where he was sitting.
The sound was extremely loud, high-voltage electricity surged through his body. His muscles locked instantly. He couldn't move a single finger. Small burn marks and holes appeared on his shirt and pants as the fabric scorched.
Confusion clouded his mind. All he could do was scream.
"Ahhhrggggg!!!..."
He collapsed onto the wet pavement. Rain splashed against his body as he hit the ground.
He tried to crawl across the concrete, dragging himself forward with shaking arms.
"What just happened…?" he gasped. "Did… did I just get struck by lightning?"
He pushed against the ground, trying to stand—
Another bolt hit.
A bluish streak of lightning struck his body.
Then another.
And another.
Consecutive streaks of blue and yellow lightning kept striking him, as if someone above had serious beef with him.
"Ahhhrrggg!!!! Son… of… a b—"
With his dying breath, he tried to curse the sky one last time—but couldn't finish it.
His entire body felt like it was burning—from the inside out. His nerves screamed in pain. His limbs refused to respond. His vision flickered and darkened. His heartbeat felt unstable, like it could stop at any second.
He could only lie there as the electric current flow through him.
Then he went still.
The rain continued to fall, as if nothing had happened.
As his vision faded and his consciousness was slowly swallowed by darkness, a thought crossed his mind.
"So… this is how I die? I haven't even had the chance to taste steak, king crab, or lobster—not even once—from that restaurant near the big market. Pathetic… what a boring life. And what will happen to my… internet history? I hope no one sees it."
Finally, he died. But even though he was already dead. Another consecutive lightning strikes continued to hit his body, the force so intense that his bones began cracking and fracturing.
His skin darkened, turning black with clear signs of severe burning. His body fluids dried up and evaporated under the extreme heat. His left hand detached from his arm and fell to the ground, breaking apart like dry, brittle charcoal upon impact.
The strikes continued until his corpse became unrecognizable—reduced to little more than burned wood-like remains scattered across the wet pavement.
Current time: 12:24 AM
A staggering rain soaked drunk man lurched past, his steps uneven, shoes scraping against the pavement. He squinted at the faintly smoking remains, swaying where he stood, his head tilting too far to one side.
"Uhh… hh—what the hell…" he slurred, blinking slowly as his vision struggled to focus. "Why… why's there a campfire… here…?" He let out a crooked laugh, he is undoubtedly drunk. "Heh… those homeless guys again… cookin' marshmallows or… or somethin'…"
He scratched his head lazily, missing the horror completely. Then, without a care, he staggered closer, fumbling with his belt.
"Ahh… whatever… heh… gotta… gotta help out…" he mumbled, barely able to stand straight. "Here comes… Mr elephant…"
He burst into a sloppy, breathless chuckle as he relieved himself directly onto the charred, still-smoking remains of Adrian—his aim drifting, his body swaying, completely oblivious to what he was actually doing.