COZMART: Corner Shop of Visiting Gods

When the spatial anchor finally powered down, all that remained was the deafening roar from the stands and big screens.

Eathan barely registered the descent back to solid ground. Beside him, Esther stepped off the platform with a silent, indifferent grace, and Willow followed, a smirk pulling at the edge of her mouth as she soaked up the applause.

Back at Team 001's bench, Finn was already leaping toward them, arms wide like an over-caffeinated toddler.

"You absolute legends!" he hollered, engulfing all three of them in a crushing, uncomfortably sweaty group hug. "Did you see RealmNet? Esther's officially a stealth meta queen, Willow's basically a sentient tank, and Eathan—!"

"Please don't call me printer-boy," Eathan begged, voice muffled against Finn's shoulder.

Finn patted him cheerfully. "Too late, printer-boy."

"Congrats, I guess," Chewie yawned from the sidelines, offering a half-hearted high-five without even looking up from her holopad. "RealmNet thinks you're all cool now. Enjoy your fifteen minutes of validation."

"Wow," Willow snorted. "Such honour."

On the massive holographic screen above, Yverie was practically vibrating with excitement. "Folks, did we just witness the most creative use of stationery products in competitive divine gaming history? I think we did!"

Brother Woo inclined his head, tea mug steaming. "The Ledger confirms it. Team 001—triumphant through precision stationery tactics."

The live RealmNet feed reacted behind them:

[@ReceiptQueen89]: Printer MVP! Just pre-ordered my limited-edition Eathan-themed barcode scanner.

[@QuietDeathFan]: Esther carrying the stealth meta! She vanished so fast even the replay glitched.

[@TankOrNothing]: Willow could probably bench-press the entire arena. My fitness goals just got reset.

Eathan flushed, trying—and failing—to sink into his scarf.

Across the staging area, Team 006 still lingered in stunned disbelief. Cragtooth scratched his massive, granite-like head, while Mistbreaker shook ice crystals from his armour in resignation. Violet stood utterly still, shoulders rigid with barely-contained fury. Her narrowed gaze fixed directly on Esther.

Esther calmly ignored her, fiddling instead with the scanner now tucked back into Eathan's fanny pack.

Eathan leaned discreetly toward Willow. "Think she'll hold a grudge?"

"Definitely," she replied. "The Sea Dragon Prince's troops all do. They collect them like stamps."

Finn grinned. "Maybe Esther will autograph hers."

Just as they settled down at their bench, a chime echoed from the holographic screen.

Yverie pressed her hands together. "And now, onto our third match! Commander Erlang Shen of Area 002 against Commander Great Peng of Area 007—a rivalry for the ages. Oh, and a small note of trivia for our new viewers: Erlang Shen has officially broken his three-cycle curse of facing Lady Foxfire in Game One."

Brother Woo, serene as always, nodded. "Lady Foxfire defeated him each cycle previously. Perhaps this will change his fortunes."

Great Peng appeared onscreen, already posing for his drone cameras, already surrounded by sparkling phoenix mounts branded from head to talon with sponsorship logos.

The golden commander leaned closer to one camera lens. "Between you and me," he whispered conspiratorially, "maybe Erlang's previous losses weren't curses—perhaps he just fell victim to Foxfire's irresistible charisma."

Pulling away from the drone, he then winked, his followers flooding RealmNet with appreciative memes.

The match began with a gong's echoing crash.

Erlang Shen's disciplined team surged forth, perfectly choreographed. Nezha looped circles in midair, celestial fire blazing beneath his wheels, shepherding Great Peng's phoenix trio into dizzying spirals.

"Formation Delta—wait, no, Gamma—uh, just scatter!" Great Peng shouted.

Despite not being able to hear him from the arena's calibrated terrains, his followers dutifully screamed chaos and collided midair, their wings tangled and glitter banners fluttering. Erlang Shen's celestial dog calmly herded the confused mounts directly into a wall of ice, causing them to squawk like geese. Peng frantically live-tweeted his mounting disaster, his RealmNet comments increasingly viral:

[@GreatestPeng]:

Mistakes were made. Many, many mistakes. I deeply regret my strategic choices.

#DivineDisaster #SendHelp

The match ended in seven minutes. RealmNet commentators flooded Peng's feed with sympathetic emojis and merch purchases in real-time, profits soaring even as his team plummeted into tactical ruin.

"Merchandise moves swiftly in times of chaos," Brother Woo murmured gently.

Erlang Shen stood composed by the viewing balcony, not a single hair displaced, and unfazed by the inevitable surrender. His team's cohesion remained flawless to the end.

As the final phoenix mount flopped dramatically out of bounds, Yverie chirped, "Victory goes to Team 002—discipline prevails!"

One commander's viewing platform, Peng slumped to his knees, camera drones sympathetically zooming in on his face. No sooner had Team 007's dramatic exit concluded did Lady Foxfire's idol cheer-squad entered the field, dazzling spectators with synchronized glitter formations spelling out "FOXYBABEZ!" against the sky.

Brother Woo sighed quietly. "The glitter budget must have been substantial."

With the gong kicking off the start of Round Four, Foxfire's idols launched immediately into perfectly timed routines, their pompoms shimmering hypnotically, confounding Qiongqi's aggressive team.

Within minutes, the battlefield descended into choreographed chaos. One of Qiongqi's demonic team members, patience stretched paper-thin, roared and lunged forward, massive claws shredding glittering illusions—but each dissipating copy multiplied into dozens more. Soon, countless dazzling eggs and copies of Foxfire's team flooded the terrain.

The demon member with jagged teeth, blinded by rage and glitter, swung in all directions.

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed, smashing his massive paw down upon what he believed was Foxfire's node-core—only for the unmistakable crunch of his own crystal to reverberate across the stadium.

Absolute silence.

Different from Team 001, who had strategically swapped their node-core with that of Team 006, Qiongqi's team had simply mistaken the enemy's node-core for their own in a fit of rage. Lady Foxfire's laughter echoed as she winked toward the cameras from the balcony, pompoms twirling in victory.

RealmNet erupted instantly:

#SparkleSlaughter

#FOXYBABEZ FOR LIFE!!

"QiongqiVsGlitter: Glitter wins again!"

Brother Woo nodded, then caught himself and shook his head. "An unfortunate misjudgment by Team 005."

Yverie beamed, clapping. "A beautifully glitter-filled victory for Team 008!"

From Team 001's bench, Finn drew back his head, looking genuinely impressed. "And here I thought our win was unconventional."

Willow smirked. "Leave it to Foxfire to weaponize idol choreography."

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Just when the arena's excitement had finally begun to settle, Yverie's voice crackled back to life, nearly pushing through the holographic broadcast.

"Surprise twist, viewers! The netizen vote for our wildcard match-up has closed—and the winner is…" She squinted, then broke into a smile. "Team 007 versus Team 009!"

The stadium erupted in scattered laughter and applause. Great Peng, who had just barely recovered from his disastrous defeat, stared at the giant holographic screen in horror.

"My fans betrayed me," he whispered, clutching his heart and swooning against a nearby team banner. His phoenix mounts, newly revived, sympathetically nudged him upright. "All that merch, and this is what loyalty means."

Brother Woo lowered his head solemnly. "Popularity is both a blessing and a curse."

As the teams ascended onto the battlefield again, this time transformed into a tropical paradise, Team 009 took their positions.

Wen's chosen team was statuesque, precise, and unsmiling—celestial bureaucrats from the Bodhi Realm, each holding sleek, ominously glowing tablets stamped with seals. In contrast, Peng's phoenix riders flapped chaotically, still glittery, still barely coordinated. Great Peng himself, with an expression of an exquisite mixture of disbelief and resignation, raised one glitter-covered fist into the air.

"Alright, everyone!" he shouted from the viewing room. "Chaos got us into this mess, and chaos will—"

A loud gong interrupted him mid-sentence, marking the immediate start of the match. Wen's team calmly lifted their tablets, glowing scripts uncoiling into the air.

Instantly, Great Peng's phoenix mounts halted midair, wings flapping in place, suspended in time loops that flashed with administrative seals.

"Wait, what is—" Peng froze, his hand raised, mouth still half-open. His phoenix hovered, suspended mid-wingbeat. His teammates met identical fates, trapped like exhibits in a wax museum.

Yverie gasped, leaning forward. "Is that… a paperwork stasis loop?"

Brother Woo nodded, almost reverently. "Indeed. Commander Wen, too, has chosen to weaponize bureaucracy. Marvellous efficiency."

Onscreen, Wen stood quietly at the viewing balcony, adjusting his pristine uniform as one of his teammates stamped another form. More seals flashed. Great Peng's expression cycled from confusion to horror to despair—on endless repeat.

Wen's quiet voice echoed, audible only due to the profound silence in the stands. "Efficiency is divine."

[@PaperworkPain]: This match is giving me corporate flashbacks. Terrifyingly nasty.

[@SealStasisFan]: Commander Wen, my hero. Bureaucratic justice served cold.

[@GPengFanclub99]: Somebody save Peng! He's stuck buffering irl!

***

While Peng's existential paperwork nightmare unfolded below, the non-competing teams had gathered in a cozy lounge overlooking the arena. RealmNet drones hovered like curious dragonflies, dipping low and high, catching every immortal gestures and mortal anxiety. Their lenses blinked, relaying each awkward pause and tentative greeting to millions of delighted viewers.

Eathan, sipping nervously at overly-sweetened tea, eyed his surroundings. The entire room was drenched in networking energy. He had barely caught his breath when a blazing presence stepped directly into his view, wheels of celestial fire crackling beneath him. It was an energetic youth with two buns on his head, grinning like he'd just found a fellow pyromaniac.

"You're the receipt guy!" Nezha announced brightly, flaming wheels spinning beneath his feet, scorching the carpet. "Your thing's kinda like mine, right? Wheels and receipts—both OP, both absolutely ridiculous?"

Eathan, wary of the sparking wheels, edged back slightly. "Mine just prints," he corrected lightly, feeling sweat bead down his neck. "No fire involved."

"Yet!" Nezha clapped his shoulder, nearly singeing fabric. "Stationery warfare! Respect. Wanna race sometime?"

Meanwhile, Finn had struck up a thoughtful, philosophical debate with Lady Meng's Ghost General, whose misty features hovered politely above a lounge cushion.

"But if ghosts are technically immortal," he argued, brandishing a biscuit for emphasis, "then existential dread is really just endless procrastination, right?"

"An intriguing hypothesis." The Ghost General stroked his spectral beard. "Perhaps dread is the ultimate unfinished task."

At a far table, Willow's eyes burned with competitive fury as she arm-wrestled one of Qiongqi's heavily muscled lieutenants. The entire lounge watched as both contestants trembled, locked in silent warfare, veins bulging beneath the skin. The air around them trembled as their qi pressures wrestled in the space.

"They haven't inhaled in four minutes," Finn whispered, fascinated.

"Breathing is for the weak," Chewie replied, already halfway to cornering Lady Foxfire's cheerleaders. She shoved a holopad into their face, presenting analytical diagrams on collaborative streaming. "Think of the merch synergy potential. I can provide the talisman tech. You handle choreography. We'll break inter-realm records."

Across the lounge, Violet finally approached Esther. Tension crackled in the air like frostbitten static. Violet, expression tightly controlled, inclined her head only fractionally.

"You're… exceptionally fast," she conceded, eyes narrowed.

Esther merely nodded back, unblinking. "Likewise."

Both maintained eye contact for exactly three more seconds before turning away, respectful animosity clear.

Several levels above the lounge's ongoing pandemonium, the commanders occupied their exclusive balcony, oblivious—or simply indifferent—to the locust drones weaving discreetly around them. Visual-only RealmNet drones hovered, dutifully capturing the commanders' deceptively tranquil expressions—scenes muted entirely from public audio.

RealmNet screenshots multiplied instantly, captioned with imagined dialogues more outrageous than the truth probably could ever be.

In a plush, oversized bean bag, Qiongqi lounged like a pampered tiger, exuding triumphant smugness. "You saw it yourselves! A near-flawless victory! Practically perfection."

From his place, Taeril White took a deliberately slow sip of tea, eyes half-lidded. "Consistency suits you, Qiongqi. Consistently falling just short of victory."

"Consistency and sparkles." A soft chuckle escaped Lady Foxfire from behind her fan. "Don't forget sparkles."

Meng Po quietly observed through lowered lashes, though the corner of her lips twitched ever-so-slightly upward. Erlang Shen maintained immaculate posture, fingers drumming a single slow beat on his chair's armrest—likely an attempt at meditative calm amidst mounting absurdity.

Qiongqi only scowled, lashing his tail sideways. "Better consistent skill than cheap tricks and luck, White."

"Cheap tricks? You'd know about that from your fiscal reports." Taeril arched a pale eyebrow, the barest smirk tugging his lips. "I'd be careful if I were you. Last I heard, your reputation still hasn't recovered from losing to the cheerleaders."

The air turned brittle as Qiongqi's knuckles tightened audibly, red flushing visibly through his skin. Lady Foxfire leaned closer. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "No shame in succumbing to our choreography, darling. Our sparkles are known to blind effectively."

Erlang Shen cleared his throat, attempting to re-establish order. "Commanders, perhaps we should maintain some level of decorum—"

Taeril's gaze slid smoothly toward him. "Ah, decorum," he drawled. "Is that the term they use for losing to Lady Foxfire three cycles in a row?"

Erlang Shen's composed expression stifled, his aura flickering all around him. Ao Bing watched silently from the side, eyes sharp and calculating.

Li Wei, utterly exhausted and cradling a thermos with palpable resignation, muttered into it, "Here we go again."

The conversation continued, Taeril's understated remarks punctuated by Lady Foxfire's delighted laughter, each barb sharper and wittier than the last. Meng Po's serene tea-sipping acted as an ironic punctuation, while Ao Bing remained suspiciously silent, observing from behind inscrutable eyes.

Finally, Li Wei—completely drained of patience—snapped like an elastic band forcibly stretched by a mile. He leaned forward, words cutting through the veiled tension.

"Commander White, perhaps less of whatever you call this would be better for Council unity."

A stark silence seized the balcony instantly, as if reality itself had hit pause. All eyes pivoted towards the mortal commander, startled at the usually stoic man's directness.

Taeril paused, as if genuinely considering Li Wei's words. The silence stretched, the tiger's expression unreadable. Then, under everyone's dumbfounded looks, he inclined his head just slightly, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips.

"Fair point, Captain Li."

The other commanders exchanged rapid, bewildered glances. Wen's brows shot up, a rare hint of approval flickering in his eyes while Ao Bing's only narrowed further, suspicion sharpening.

Baffled into silence, Li Wei could only gape at the white-haired man. He glanced to either side, meeting equally stunned expressions from his coworkers, then looked back at Taeril, who only offered him an innocuous smile.

Li Wei retreated back into his tea, internally cursing the newfound respect he neither wanted nor asked for.

***

While the commanders' muted drama continued to light up RealmNet's meme feeds, Eathan had wandered slightly away from his teammates, rubbing his temples to soothe the headache induced by hours of absurdity.

He hovered near a table laden with tiny spiritual snacks that buzzed gently upon touch—probably good for qi enhancement, or maybe just decorative. He cautiously picked up a pastry that pulsed a honey-like glow, vaguely hoping it might fix his brain.

"Hey, you catch those rumours?" murmured a voice from the nearby cluster of teams. Eathan tilted his head, ears perking up involuntarily.

"Rumours?" another voice responded, conspiratorial excitement dripping. "You mean surrounding the Vermillion Bird's hibernation? Up on the mountain?"

Eathan nearly choked, pastry mid-bite.

"Yeah!" whispered the first. "They say she's been nesting nearby for centuries, maybe even millennia. That she might wake up any moment. You know what happened last time she appeared—total elemental mayhem."

"Not to mention her legendary temper tantrums."

Eathan felt a chill sweep down his spine. Another Guardian? Like the White Tiger wasn't terrifying enough, or the Azure Dragon dramatic enough? He shivered, flashes of his boss's ruthless combat efficiency clashing violently with Quine Long's endless theatrics in his memory. At least the dragon wasn't here right now, otherwise things could've been much, much worse.

A faint groan escaped his lips as he tried to picture a third Guardian personality. Ruthlessness, theatrics—and now apparently fiery anger management issues?

"Hey, you alright?" Finn approached from behind, eyebrow raised. "You look like someone ran over your mental stability with an ice sled."

Eathan forced a weak laugh, waving him off. "Haha, just fine. Just heard—rumours. About another Guardian. Up here. Nearby."

"Another Guardian?" Finn blinked. "As in… divine-level trouble magnet?"

Eathan nodded miserably. "The Vermillion Bird. Fiery temper, possibly destructive, probably another dramatic disaster. So I heard."

Finn paused thoughtfully, glancing towards Chewie, who was busy proposing more streaming collab ideas to Foxfire's cheer squad. "Don't worry about it. They're just rumours. Heard they said that last cycle as well, and the cycle before that one…"

His voice trailed.

"Actually, I think the rumour circulates every cycle. It's practically a staple at this point. Divine gossip's notoriously persevering."

Eathan pursed his lips, deflating a little, and looked out toward the icy peaks beyond their balcony. Below, oblivious to the drama above, Great Peng remained trapped in infinite bureaucratic loops, still mouthing something like, "Why, why, why…"

"Probably just a rumour. Right?" he murmured, more to convince himself than anyone else.

Internally, he sent up a prayer to whatever higher powers might listen who were more responsible than the deities here. He prayed that just this once, the universe would please stop spawning divine entities around him like overly eager convenience-store customers looking for discounts.

Just once.

Eathan sighed.