CHAPTER 15 — THE STORM TEST

  The gods had set a trap.

  All Paris had to do was decide whether saving people was worth getting caught.

  The café around him buzzed with normal life.

  Baristas called out drink orders.

  Chairs scraped across the floor.

  Someone laughed near the window.

  Paris barely noticed any of it.

  His attention stayed on the glowing screen of his phone.

  The divine chat had gone quiet again.

  But the silence wasn’t calm.

  It was waiting.

  Paris looked down at the notes he had started writing.

  Every predicted disaster.

  Every location.

  Every time stamp.

  If the chat kept predicting events…

  Then somewhere in those messages was the next one.

  And if the gods were waiting for him to interfere—

  Then the next disaster would reveal him.

  His phone buzzed.

  A new message appeared.

  [Thunder Sovereign]: Atmospheric instability detected.

  Paris frowned.

  Another message followed.

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  [Goddess of Fate]: Storm convergence forming above the coastal region.

  [Blood Saint]: Fatality projection updating.

  Paris’s chest tightened.

  Storm.

  His fingers moved quickly as he opened a weather map.

  Dark clouds were already forming offshore.

  A powerful storm system was moving toward the city.

  But storms happened all the time.

  That didn’t necessarily mean disaster.

  Then the next message appeared.

  [Abyssal Observer]: Lightning strike probability increasing.

  Paris felt his stomach drop.

  Lightning.

  Another message appeared.

  [Goddess of Fate]: Fatality estimate: seventy-three.

  Seventy-three.

  Paris leaned forward slowly.

  “Seventy-three people.”

  He checked the time.

  The storm wouldn’t arrive for several hours.

  But the prediction had already been made.

  Which meant the outcome was already written.

  His phone buzzed again.

  [Blood Saint]: Casualty distribution across multiple locations.

  [Thunder Sovereign]: Residential structures most affected.

  Paris rubbed his temples.

  “How am I supposed to stop lightning?”

  You couldn’t delay a storm like a train.

  You couldn’t tell the sky to change its mind.

  Another message appeared.

  [Goddess of Fate]: Probability remains absolute.

  Absolute.

  Meaning the seventy-three deaths were certain.

  Unless something changed.

  Paris stared out the café window.

  The sky looked perfectly clear.

  But he knew the storm was coming.

  And he knew what would happen when it arrived.

  His phone buzzed again.

  [Demon Emperor Baal]: Let us observe whether the variable interferes.

  Paris’s jaw tightened.

  “So you’re watching.”

  Another message appeared.

  [Abyssal Observer]: Observation continues.

  Paris leaned back slowly.

  The trap was obvious.

  If he tried to stop the disaster—

  The gods would trace the probability deviation back to him.

  But if he did nothing—

  Seventy-three people would die.

  His phone vibrated again.

  [Goddess of Fate]: Storm path confirmed.

  Paris opened the weather map again.

  The storm was heading straight toward the northern districts of the city.

  Thousands of people lived there.

  Seventy-three of them were about to die.

  He stared at the screen for a long moment.

  Then he closed his eyes.

  “Of course it’s a trap.”

  He grabbed his jacket and stood.

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting them die.”

  Outside, the wind had begun to pick up.

  Dark clouds slowly gathered on the distant horizon.

  The storm was coming.

  Paris pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the chat one more time.

  The gods had gone quiet again.

  Waiting.

  Watching.

  Expecting him to interfere.

  Paris exhaled slowly.

  “Alright.”

  “If you’re watching…”

  He looked up toward the sky.

  “…then watch this.”

  Miles above the mortal world, the divine chat flickered back to life.

  [Blood Saint]: Atmospheric convergence accelerating.

  [Goddess of Fate]: Fatality probability unchanged.

  [Abyssal Observer]: The variable has not yet acted.

  Then—

  A final message appeared.

  [Thunder Sovereign]: It will.

  And somewhere beneath the gathering storm clouds—

  Paris Ardent began walking directly toward the disaster the gods had already decided would happen.

  What do you think the gods will do next?

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  - Variable God Paris