Fun fact about panic: it forces you to think faster than you've ever thought before. It's like your brain suddenly gets overclocked to deal with the whole "impending doom" situation. And standing in the middle of an ancient Greek arena, face-to-face with a guy who could bench-press a horse, I needed every neuron firing.
"I can't fight this guy!" I hissed, dodging a blow that nearly shattered the earth where I'd been standing. "No training, no skills—no plan! I'm gonna die!"
"Focus!" the owl's voice cut through my panic like a sword. "The World Tree holds all knowledge—every branch, every leaf, every skill. Draw from it."
"Hold up," I said, rolling away from another swing. "Are you telling me I can download how to fight?! Like, Matrix-style?"
Ratatoskr snickered from my shoulder. "Oh, now he gets it. Took you long enough. Ready to install Combat.exe?"
"You could've told me earlier!" I shouted as the culprit charged again.
"Less talking, more downloading," Ratatoskr quipped.
I closed my eyes for half a second.
There it was—the connection. Like roots threading through the earth, the World Tree's energy pulsed, waiting for me to tap into it. I didn't need to understand how it worked; I just had to accept it. It was like searching a database… except instead of queries, it was instincts. I reached for something—anything.
A flood of knowledge hit me.
Strikes, counters, forms, techniques—I felt them pour into my mind like a torrent of water. Pankration, boxing, wrestling, dodging. My muscles suddenly knew things they shouldn't. My posture shifted. My feet planted themselves firmly.
I opened my eyes and grinned.
"Alright, let's do this."
The culprit charged again, fists raised. This time, I didn't run.
I ducked under his first swing and pivoted on my heel, delivering a punch straight to his side. The impact felt good—like I'd been throwing punches my entire life. He stumbled, surprised.
"What…?" he growled, his voice glitching mid-word.
I didn't give him time to recover. My body moved on its own, chaining strikes and dodges like I was playing out a perfectly executed combo. I sidestepped, jabbed, swept his legs, and followed it up with a knee to the chest that sent him skidding backward in the dirt.
The crowd roared.
"Ha! Look at you go!" Ratatoskr whooped from my shoulder, still invisible to everyone else.
The culprit rose again, slower this time. His form flickered, glitching like a corrupted game sprite.
"This… cannot… be…" he hissed, his golden armor cracking.
"Yeah? Well, maybe you shouldn't cheat in the timeline," I shot back, closing the distance.
I could feel the energy of the World Tree humming through me—guiding every move. The culprit swung desperately, but I slipped under his arm and delivered a final blow to his helmeted face. The force echoed like thunder.
He froze, his form glitching violently.
"You… will not… stop it…" he said, his voice breaking apart like static.
And then, with a final flicker, he vanished. A glitch erased from the system.
The stadium fell silent.
The gods were the first to speak.
"Well done, mortal," Zeus boomed, his thunderbolt crackling faintly as he rose to his feet. "You have purged the corruption that tainted our games."
"Yeah, well, you're welcome," I muttered, still panting. "Glad to help save history."
Athena stepped forward, her gaze sharp and calculating. "You are no ordinary mortal. What are you?"
"A guy who's really tired of fixing bugs," I replied, rubbing the back of my neck. "Look, your games were breaking the timeline. And… I think I can fix that too."
"Oh?" Zeus raised an eyebrow. "And how would you do that?"
I took a deep breath, drawing from the connection to the World Tree one more time. It was risky, but I could feel its presence—like code waiting to be rewritten.
"The games don't need to be about blood," I said, my voice echoing louder than I expected. "Heroes rise from competition, sure… but let them rise through skill, through honor—not slaughter."
Athena tilted her head, considering my words. Apollo gave an approving nod. Even Ares grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
Zeus frowned thoughtfully. "And you would impose these rules?"
"Not impose," I corrected. "Just… suggest. Nudge things in the right direction. Call it a patch update."
Ratatoskr snorted. "Nice. Civilized Games v2.0."
The owl hummed approvingly. "The change will ripple softly. A repaired timeline."
Zeus turned to the other gods, who nodded their approval. Finally, he raised his hand, and the skies above shimmered with energy.
"Let it be so," Zeus declared. "The games shall honor strength—but through discipline, not death."
The crowd erupted into cheers, completely unaware of the cosmic-level rewrite happening before their eyes.
As the energy of the World Tree settled around me, I let out a long, relieved breath.
"Not bad for a developer," I muttered.
Ratatoskr grinned from my shoulder. "Admit it. You love the spotlight."
"I don't love almost dying, thanks," I shot back.
The owl spoke calmly. "The interference has been removed. The timeline is stabilizing."
"Great. Does that mean I get to go home now?"
Silence.
Ratatoskr coughed. "About that…"
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Of course not. Why would it be that easy?"
But for now, as the stadium filled with cheers and the gods disappeared into their golden mists, I allowed myself a moment to breathe.
Note to self: Always check for combat updates before challenging a glitchy time villain.
To be continued…