CHAPTER ONE

Ian thought he'd never be able to get his hands dirty again, what with all that fancy god nonsense. 

Standing over some man's crumpled corpse, watching the sand eagerly soak up that ever growing pool of red, he suddenly thought that maybe being thrust into this puny human body wasn't the worst thing to happen to him.

By the gods, did he love this. No celestial paperwork, no nothing. Just good old fashioned fun.

I should know. I'm him, and not so coincidentally also the one narrating this absolute epic of a story. Yes, we've only just barely hit one hundred words, but it's my story and you can't say anything mean about it. 

I suppose I should tell you why I just brutalised a man with my bare hands. 

You see, I'm quite a silly individual. Fundamentally unserious, even. It's my whole brand, as a former God of Chaos. 

But one day, I got too silly. I decided I'd tell a certain god a certain thing about another's relationship, and may or may not have started a heavenly civil war. Hence why the earth is all desert. And why I've been demoted to a mere mortal. A little ginger man, standing at 5'8", with too much stubble and a pleasant amount of muscle. 

But the joke's on them, actually. They forgot to wipe my memory. And thus all the spells, forbidden knowledge, and some other magical third thing that comes with it. Which is why I can still tell you this story, funny enough. 

But I killed that man, just because. You see, I'm something of a divine fugitive now. Meaning all the other gods' worshippers are after me. Not good, you might think. You'd be sorely mistaken. I love this kind of high stakes action. It's what makes a good story. 

So anyway, I pulled the crowbar out of that man's head, and turned to the rest of the idiots that were coming after me. There were roughly five of them, more or less. So, I did what any reasonable person would do in my position. I got shot in the chest several times. It hurt. A lot. 

But luckily for me, I wouldn't be dying just yet. No, not for me. Immortal soul, baby. I can keep going on for as long as I want, provided my body doesn't get incinerated or entirely destroyed. So I threw the crowbar through the first man's head, killing him on the spot. The other four continued to open fire, with their little .22 calibre baby guns. It didn't hurt much, now. There was only adrenaline.The rifles made good bludgeons, as I'd find out on the second and third men. 

The last two men tried running. I say tried, because one of them got shot in the spine, paralysing him. The other wasn't as lucky, mostly because I sent that crowbar flying into the back of his head. 

I walked over to the last man... well, not standing, but you know. He was scared for his life, lips quivering as he tried putting together a prayer for the Goddess of Fate. 

"Tell you what, mate. If Arathea actually saves you? I'll let you live. Promise." 

So then I cupped my ear, as if to listen to someone. 

"Oh, what's that? Nothing, isn't it? Shame. Tell her Mr. Chaos says hi when you get to Heaven, yeah? Thanks big guy, you've been great." 

The man didn't even have time to respond before I snapped his neck. The key is to make it a quick movement. Just one twist. Half the time, you don't even need to do the whole 180 degrees. It helps, but it isn't necessary. But for this little guy, I decided to give him a 360. For laughs. 

The sun was setting now. I grabbed my crowbar and began walking north.