God of Destruction: Living Among Mortals

Nova headed straight to the gap. His shoes hit the ground hard, dust kicking up, making him cough slightly. He could feel the wolves getting closer, claws scraping the floor with rage.

The first wolf lunged as he reached the opening. Nova slid sideways, barely, into the narrow space, letting the wolf slam into the wall. Its cry alerted the other wolves, echoing through the entire maze. The second one tried to push in, but Nova's foot came up and kicked it square in the nose, sending it stumbling back into the others.

Now they were bottlenecked, growing and snapping at each other, as if telling each other how incompetent they all were. It was mayhem between them, giving him the opportunity for more time. A slight smirk appeared on his lips, his heart pounding, his hands shaking, but his mind crystal clear, sharp as ever, because he needed it to be sharp; otherwise, he was dead.

That was the only difference between him and the wolves. He had a critical mind that could think. And based upon those thoughts, come up with a plan. The wolves were smart, but not like this.

If he were smart about it, he could pick them all off at the choking point, one at a time, and live through this.

He saw a loose rock, which he picked up, equipping it like his weapon, even though it wasn't as effective, though it did get the job done. He didn't want to waste his time thinking about how bad his chances were. Thinking that would jinx you, he told himself.

Another wolf pushed its head through the gap, snapping its jaws with a bite force greater than that of a saltwater crocodile. It was terrifying to say the least. Nova swung the rock he had grabbed down on the wolf's skull. It cried and backed up, bumping into the one behind it. All of them maintained a steady line, as if patiently waiting their turn. He confused Nova, but then again, the wolves weren't that smart.

"Yeah, that's right." He said, mocking the wolves. "Cry more, loser."

The wolves weren't happy in the slightest. Another one came through; it was faster than the ones he had faced before. It shoved the first wolf out of the way and tried to wedge its shoulders into the gap. Nova stepped forward and kicked it in the jaw. It didn't go far, but it stumbled back enough for him to catch a breath again.

They got more impatient, growling and snapping at each other, again, like they were arguing about who got to eat him first. It was, honestly, weird yet funny to watch. Someone should hire these wolves for acting roles; the Mollywood industry needs some spice.

Yeah, keep arguing and fighting amongst each other, it'll only make me have a better chance at survival. He thought, with a mocking smirk, as they kept fighting. They kept wasting their energy when they could focus and dedicate themselves to erasing Nova from existence.

Nova tightened his grip on the rock, waiting for the next one to try its luck. His heart kept slamming against his ribs. His head was muttering. But he kept telling himself the same thing: Don't mess up. Don't slow down. And MOST of all: don't die.

A fourth wolf shoved its way in, roaring with its teeth exposed. Nova didn't give it a chance. He stepped forward and slammed the rock into its head once, twice, and three times, until the rock was slick and the wolf dropped, its body going cold and limp in the narrow gap.

He didn't even look at it. He just tossed the body aside with his foot; the disrespect wasn't settling well with the other wolves. His breath was hard and lightly shaky. The smell was that of fresh, warm blood, thick and metallic. It clung to the back of his throat, making him want to gag. But he resisted.

Another one came in angrily, climbing over the dead one. Even the wolves didn't show any respect to the dead ones, so why should Nova? The wolf got halfway through before Nova drove his rock right into its nose. It screamed, shaking its head, and Nova slammed it again in the eye, hard enough to feel the bone crack under the blow. Blood poured out profusely. It thrashed in pain, but the narrow walls trapped it, and Nova kept hitting it until it stopped moving. As cold as a statue.

By now, his hands were covered in blood. His shirt was sticking to him with sweat and something else. He identified it as the saliva and the blood of the wolves, which creeped him out. His chest was aching from breathing too fast, but the adrenaline kept him moving. He couldn't stop. Stopping meant dying.

Ew, he thought, looking disgusted at all the saliva that was mixed with the blood of the wolves and his sweat. This is so fucking disgusting. Thank Father, I have other pairs of this shirt, 'cause it's gonna take a while to wash this shit off.

The next wolf didn't hesitate. They didn't learn. They were openly blinded by rage, which he couldn't care less about. Since, in his eyes, they kept making mistake after mistake, which meant a free win for him every single time.

The wolf lunged into the gap, jaws snapping inches from his face. Nova barely dodged, then grabbed its head with both hands and slammed it into the wall. Once. Twice. The sound was wet and heavy. He felt its skull erupting with blood, and it dropped. His arms were shaking so badly with all this adrenaline that he almost dropped the rock.

The last wolf was smart enough to hesitate, growling low, its eyes locked on him. Nova stared right back, telling it to come at him, chest heavy and tighter, sweat and blood dripping from his face. He was too tired, but his adrenaline had other plans. He didn't wait. He stepped forward into the gap, swinging the rock like he was breaking down a door. The first hit knocked the wolf off balance. The second made it stumble. The third crushed its skull. Its brain was distributing itself, like the mathematical property, to Nova and the ground. Everything split perfectly.

Nova stood there, hunched over, blood dripping from the rock, his breath ragged and uneven. The ground in front of him was littered with a half-brain and countless bodies, fur tangled with blood. The smell of the rotting corpses and all the bloody gore was choking the air. He coughed slightly, then adjusted to the air, as if he smelled it daily. His arms felt so heavy and burned with agony. It felt as if they were on fire. His head was spinning in circles, feeling like he was about to faint, but he gritted his teeth. But he was somehow alive. Being thankful for it.

He dropped the rock, as it hit the ground with a gloomy thud.

"Phew…" he muttered, wiping his face with his shaky hand. "That… was wonderful."