I kept still, ignoring my knee pain. I could hear Nelson retching and gasping for air.

  Lady Death, sensing my attempt, squeezed my lungs, forcing the air out of me—trying to make me jump or yell. I coughed and gasped, but held firm.

  ‘No fun~’ she pouted, clawing at my back from the inside like a bored cat.

  I was too mentally drained to think straight. So I asked for a small mercy.

  ‘Can you hold back for a while? I can’t deal with two gods at the same time.’

  ‘Mmm~ what do you offer?’

  ‘Anything you want—just not now!’

  ‘Hehehe~’

  Lady Death said nothing more, only letting out a small, eerie chuckle.

  “I’m fine… I’m fine,” Nelson muttered.

  I wobbled toward him and offered my shaky hand. “Good sir, allow me to aid you.”

  Nelson tripped twice before finally managing to stand. He tried to speak, but covered his mouth. After a few seconds, he finally said, “I-I thank you… It seems we’ve found ourselves in a…”

  He racked his brain for the right word. Glancing briefly at where the hologram had appeared, he found it.

  “A… unique situation.” (Thanks… what the fuck is going on?)

  He assembled his most refined speech—a skill honed through years of bullshitting in shady business deals—terrified that a single misplaced curse might get him smited on the spot.

  “Indeed! It must be a most unique experience, being revived by the revered deity.” (Fuck, man, your screams made my ears bleed.)

  ‘Mister Frank, you two adapt remarkably well~’ Lady Death’s voice echoed sweetly in my head. ‘You might even fool Stalin~’ She kept chirping, delighted, like a cute eldritch corvid.

  ‘Jesus Christ, shu—silence!’ I ground my knuckles into my scalp, trying to scrub the voice away—only to be mocked harder.

  ‘I’m not Jesus~’

  I ignored her ancient, dad-grade joke and focused on my shivering friend.

  Nelson took a deep breath. “Sir, you are absolutely right,” he said, gulping, his eyes fixed on the void. “It was… v-very unique.”

  He shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. “I can still feel his… touch.” (You have no idea how much it hurts… I can still feel it in my bones.)

  He placed his trembling hand on my shoulder, his thumb digging.

  We continued our polite exchange, like Soviet citizens trying to avoid a one-way trip to the gulag while a babushka giggled nonstop at our efforts.

  “The revered deity is truly unique,” Nelson said. (That thing is fucking scary.)

  “I am eager to discover the unique cu—blessings he will bestow upon us.” (That almighty cunt will curse us.)

  Our chatter steadied our nerves as we mentally berated the deity—until…

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The pressure returned.

  The air turned cold and heavy, the sense of imminent danger tightening around our necks like a noose.

  Nelson muttered a single, broken “No…” I watched the color drain from his face.

  “Oh. The irreverent one seems to be behaving.”

  And just like that, the celestial fucker appeared in the flesh.

  A cold, mocking laugh rang out at our horror-stricken faces.

  Nelson soiled himself.

  So did I.

  His true presence radiated pure disdain; his eyes didn’t even bother to hide the thought: I really wish I weren’t here right now.

  We were nothing more than a pair of bothersome, braindead starfishes—sponges soaking up his dripping scorn.

  Nelson dropped to the ground without hesitation, channeling his inner chihuahua.

  I grovelled too, playing my three-days-no-coffee trembling self.

  “Arise, insipid creatures,” the deity commanded, his tone dripping with absolute disdain.

  Nelson wobbled like a spring toy fighting gravity.

  I rose and bowed my head. “Thank you for your mercy, revered deity.” He didn’t even bother to snort.

  ‘This almighty cunt.’My terror was beginning to curdle into anger. ‘Easy, Frank. Easy.’

  I turned to Nelson and hauled him up. “Hasten your aid, creature. Eternity is far too short to waste watching your pathetic struggle.”

  What the fuck is his problem? I barked internally as I steadied my jelly-legged friend. Years of carrying his drunken ass made this easy.

  The deity let out a sigh that seemed to stretch across time itself.

  “Under the binding decree of the Supreme Father,” he said. His eyes narrowed at the mention, irritation flashing—before sliding back into their usual scorn, like a bitter employee forced to acknowledge his boss. ‘A wagecuck god. Heh.’

  “I am obliged to impart upon you the knowledge and rules of the world you will be sent to—for our amusement,” he continued, laughing as if he were the funniest being in existence.

  Our silence only seemed to make him more bitter.

  “And I shall bestow upon you classes reminiscent of your time wasted in fake realities—skills derived from the way you lived your miserable lives, and a blessing of my choosing.”

  His eyes practically screamed that he planned to royally screw us over.

  “Welcome to World 17…”

  He repeated the words spoken by the hologram as if forced to say them, baring his teeth like a rabid dog.

  As he reached into his robe, a familiar feeling crept over me.

  Years of conditioning meant to keep me alive in the third-world shithole I used to live in betrayed me. The faint silhouette of a gangster drawing a gun triggered my Pavlovian reflex—and before I could stop myself, I offered him my stealable phone.

  ‘God fucking damnit, Frank!’ I screamed internally.

  Lady Death let out an unladylike squeal.

  My face turned ghostly pale; my soul began to leave my body—only to be lassoed back by my lovely tormentor.

  ‘Don’t run away, Mister Frank~’

  The deity glared at me.

  “Explain yourself, lowly creature.” His words shook me to the core.

  Nelson stifled his laughter. ‘Weren’t you shitting yourself one second ago?!’

  “R-revered deity,” I stammered, “my humble self… desires to offer you a tribute!”

  He glanced at the phone and, with a single flick of his hand, turned it to dust.

  “Worthless. Like you.”

  He chuckled ominously, blowing the dust into my eyes. “Now behave, or I’ll make an example out of you.”

  ‘Mister Frank~, punch him~!’ Lady Death whispered. I took it as reverse advice.

  He narrowed his eyes and returned to his bothersome task.

  “The world you, insignificant beast, are going to is similar to your former one—with minor differences.”

  He tossed the book at my face.

  “Thank you, revered deity,” I said, humbly taking it as my inner rage simmered.

  Nelson, the bastard, coped by giggling at me.

  “First,” the deity said, “introduce your pathetic selves. Name, age, worst day.”

  Divine power surged through nopeland itself, forcing my mouth to move.

  “Francisco Cruz. Thirty. When I got a cough with broken ribs.”

  “Nelson Campos. Thirty. When I learned my dick is 0.5 centimeters below average.”

  “One broken by pain,” the deity mused. “The other by vanity. So bland.”

  He chuckled to himself. Nelson went livid, exposed and seething.

  ‘Helena Charontas. Umm… I lost count~, secret~!’

  ‘Helena? Could you not drop su—’ I couldn’t finish the thought. The Wagecuck God didn’t waste time.

  “Now for your life-based skills,” he said, pointing at Nelson.

  “Let’s begin with the laughing pest.”

  Fleshy chunks tore from Nelson’s body. He clenched his jaw, refusing to scream—denying the shitty deity the satisfaction.

  The chunks morphed into black orbs, the deity held them like wet garbage and tossed them into a golden box without a second thought.

  The orbs burst back out, shimmering in different colors, and fused with the gaping wound in Nelson’s body.

  “Didn’t hurt that much,” he muttered, his gaze defiant.

  He had stopped trembling. All I felt from him now was cold, burning anger.

  A massive hologram bloomed above the deity, displaying the skills.