“Welcome to the ranks… try not to die.”

You thought you’d seen everything. You’d been bounced between gods like some cosmic internship, Creation, War, Magic, Sky, Spirits, Fate each one poking, testing, inspecting you like you were a rare collectible.

You excelled at everything. Magic? You adapted. War? You survived. Diplomacy? You didn’t get stabbed. Even the goddess of chaos shrugged and said. “Yeah, this one’s fun.”

So when Builderman calm, logical, volcano-eyed god of Order pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered.

“Fine. Send them to Doom. If they impress him, they’re ready.”

You didn’t know if that was praise or a death sentence.

You followed Builderman through his molten-forge palace, weaving between magma rivers and colossal machines humming with divine precision. You thought he’d lead you to a battlefield or war council.

No.

He stopped before a giant obsidian gate carved with claw marks the size of your torso. He placed one hand on it and said, completely flat:

“Try not to get crushed.”

“What—?”

The gate exploded inward. A shockwave nearly peeled your soul off your body. Builderman didn’t flinch.

From the darkness, a mountain moved.

Then he stepped into the light.

THE GOD OF JUSTICE ARRIVES

25 feet, 8 inches of raw war.

Colossal black armor streaked with red runes pulsing like molten blood. Spiked pauldrons bigger than wagons. A massive horned helm in one clawed hand, revealing a face framed in wild black fur, dusted with star-like speckles. Golden eyes that burned with judgment.

His hair, long and rough. His tail, armored and heavy, dragging trenches in the stone. His arm cannon glowed like a miniature sun ready to detonate.

The air warped from his power.

His gaze fell on you.

You forgot how breathing worked.

He looked you over like a general judging a defective sword.

“This is it?”

Builderman shoved your shoulder. “This is your recruit. Try not to break them.”

A long, rumbling pause.

“…No promises.” Perfect. Wonderful.

Builderman clapped your back painfully and said. “They’re yours. Don’t kill them.” Then vanished in a beam of molten light.

Leaving you alone with a skyscraper-sized deity radiating murder energy.

Doombringer sniffed in irritation. His tail slammed once, the entire domain trembled.

“Stand up straight.”

You straightened.

“Higher.”

You tried.

“No, higher.”

You were about to snap your spine in half.

He circled you like a predator examining prey. Then stopped. Stared.

And without warning—

HE PUNCHED YOU.

Full divine force. Right in the chest.

You didn’t stumble. You flew, ragdolling through the air until you slammed into an obsidian pillar hard enough to leave a crater.

You’d have died if you weren’t already enhanced.

Before you could inhale, he appeared in front of you again, teleporting or moving so fast reality couldn’t keep up. He grabbed you by the front of your armor and lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing.

His voice thundered.

“Rule one. I don’t train the weak.”

He threw you across the arena. You rolled, choking on your breath, pushed yourself upright barely.

He nodded once. Almost satisfied.

His red bucket hat absurdly divine tilted as he regarded you.

“My soldiers don’t fear gods,” he growled. “They challenge them.”

He raised his cannon. Runes flared. Heat rippled off it in waves. The barrel glowed red, brighter, brighter until the light seared your eyes.

He aimed at your heart.

“Now, show me if you belong here.”

You had exactly one heartbeat before the God of Justice tried to erase you from existence.