Gods Game: Apocalypse Rewritten

Zane scanned through his skill list, filtering out the ones that would be useless in a direct confrontation. In the end, only five had any real chance of making an impact. Not enough to win, but enough to survive.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he mentally simulated the fight. The Archfiend would be faster, stronger, and nearly untouchable. But raw power wasn't everything—he just had to find the gaps.

The countdown began.

Across the Safe Zones, countless humans gathered around the holographic screens, their voices a mix of shock and mockery.

"Is this guy insane?"

"Maybe he's just stupid."

"Do you think he actually has a chance?"

"Not even one in a million."

"Why is his face hidden? Where is he from?"

The doubt was universal. Nobody had ever fought an Archfiend and lived to talk about it.

But they weren't the only ones watching.

---

Red, one of the Archfiend leaned back in his throne, casually picking at an exquisite meal. His eyes flicked toward the screen, watching with mild amusement. "A human actually found the mechanic? Interesting. I hope Blue isn't dumb enough to lose because of it."

Elsewhere, Yellow watched in quiet curiosity. "Did his system tell him about the mechanic? No, that wouldn't make sense. If he knew the odds, he wouldn't challenge Blue. Unless…" His eyes narrowed. "What is he planning?"

Black, however, scoffed, his expression twisted in disdain. "What the hell am I watching? A human actually thinks he can fight us head-on?" His lips curled into a sneer. "If that were me, I'd drag this out—let him taste despair before crushing him completely."

---

Back in the arena, Zane remained perfectly still, watching his opponent. His heart was steady. The Archfiend expected him to panic, to break under the weight of an unwinnable battle. But Zane knew something most people didn't—fear was a weapon, and he refused to hand it over.

His lips curled into a smirk. Let them doubt. Let them laugh. The moment the match began, he'd show them why he was still alive.

As soon as the countdown hit zero, Zane and the Archfiend were teleported to opposite ends of the arena.** The cool air brushed against his skin, and tall trees cast long shadows across the battlefield.

Perfect.

The Archfiend wasted no time. In an instant, it dashed to the center of the arena, standing with arms crossed, waiting for Zane to approach. It wasn't even taking him seriously.

Zane crouched behind a boulder, reviewing his plan. Critical Strike, Shadow Clones, Shadow Merge, Poison Fog, and Smoke Screen. Five skills. Five potential tools. Smoke Screen wouldn't be as effective here, but it could still create an opening.

He exhaled, then stepped out. Time to test its intelligence.

Zane raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, I give up."

The Archfiend's eyes narrowed.

"I've been thinking," Zane continued, keeping his tone desperate. "I know you can kill me in one hit, and I don't want to die. So how about we settle this another way? I'll become your servant. Maybe even sell my soul."

For a split second, the Archfiend twitched.

Zane caught it immediately—a flicker of irritation. That was all he needed.

"You disappoint me." The Archfiend's voice was cold, its muscles tensing. "I thought you might be different. The first human to challenge us… and this is what you offer?"

Before Zane could react, the Archfiend lunged forward, fist flying toward his gut at blinding speed.

The impact landed—but something was off.

The body melted like wax.

The Archfiend's eyes widened. "A clone?"

It clenched its fist. *Because my powers were removed—I didn't sense it immediately.*

It turned sharply, scanning the battlefield. "That means he's still—"

A shadow shifted behind it.

Zane exploded from the darkness, fist aimed at the Archfiend's back with speed—

Another clone.

The Archfiend smirked. "So you're testing me. Good. Let's see how long you last."

Zane didn't reply. He was already moving.

Boom!

A crater formed where Zane's clone had just been standing—a shockwave tearing through the ground as the Archfiend's fist obliterated the air.

Zane twisted mid-air, summoning Shadow Clones to scatter in all directions. The arena became a blur—dozens of Zanes flickering between trees and boulders, their forms blending into the terrain.

The Archfiend clicked its tongue. "Pointless."

With a single stomp, the ground shattered. Jagged rock shards exploded outward, tearing through half the clones instantly.

But Zane had already accounted for that.

Before the debris settled, he activated Shadow Merge, sinking into the darkness of a broken tree stump. The Archfiend's eyes narrowed, scanning the field—but in that split second of hesitation, Zane erupted from its blind spot, dagger flashing.

Critical Strike—!

The attack vanished into thin air.

Zane landed lightly on a snow-covered boulder, watching as the Archfiend turned toward him, unimpressed.

Another clone.

The Archfiend exhaled through its nose. "Enough tricks. Face me directly."

Zane's smirk didn't waver, but he knew the Archfiend was catching on. It realized they hadn't truly clashed once.

And he was right. From the start of the match, Zane had remained hidden, letting his clones test the waters. But the timer for Shadow Merge was almost up.

Time to shift gears.

Zane charged forward, summoning his dual daggers. The Archfiend didn't even move—arms wide open, inviting him in.

Big mistake.

Five Shadow Clones materialized behind the Archfiend, daggers gleaming.

The onslaught began.

A relentless flurry of Critical Strikes, each attack precise, aiming for weak spots. Some landed, most missed—but even the ones that connected barely shaved a fraction of its HP.

Zane expected that. He had one chance—he had to drown the Archfiend in attacks until—

Clap.

A single shockwave blasted outward, sending every clone flying before they dissolved.

The battlefield descended into chaos.

Zane kept up the assault, Smoke Screen and Poison Fog layering the arena. Shadows flickered through the mist as clones launched another coordinated strike.

But his MP was dropping—fast.

Then, suddenly—everything stopped.

Zane stood motionless, watching the Archfiend through the haze. Unshaken.

The Archfiend chuckled. "Is that all you've got?"

In an instant—it was in front of him.

Before Zane could react, its hand plunged into the darkness.

And dragged him out.

Impossible.

The system had told him—no one could pull him from his own shadows.

But Zane hadn't trusted the system's rules. And now, this was proof.

Yet—he wasn't worried.

Because that, too, was a decoy.

The Archfiend growled, eyes flicking around the field, its patience wearing thin. Its aura shifted.

Rage Mode.

Everything was leveled.

Boulders? Gone.

Trees? Obliterated.

Shadows? Wiped out.

And now, Zane's timer had run out.

No more tricks. No more clones.

Only him.

The Archfiend saw him and grinned. "There you are."

It charged, fist reeling back. Zane barely had time to react—he crossed his daggers, absorbing the impact.

Shatter.

The daggers broke. The force sent him skidding across the ruined battlefield, his arms numb from the impact.

And then—it hit him.

That feeling.

He had forgotten what it was like.

Fear.

Not fear of death.

Fear of losing.

And with it—a memory resurfaced.

Why was I so desperate to be number one?

Her voice. That smug taunt. That one moment that lit a fire in him that never died.

He had let it consume him, reshape him.

But he didn't regret it.

A slow grin spread across Zane's face.

He wasn't just trying to survive anymore.

He was planning to win.