Ruho lifted his head from his hands, a desperate idea forming. "What about the other gods? Can they help? There's got to be someone who knows about strategy or warfare or escaping from impossible situations, right?"
"Well," Azirel said slowly, "you could ask Loki—"
"YOU CANNOT GET HELP FROM MY COMPETITOR!"
Tyrix's presence exploded into the room with such force that Ruho actually fell backward off the couch. The trainee god materialized—or his presence did, Ruho still couldn't actually see him—radiating an energy that was equal parts panic and territorial aggression.
"Your competitor?" Ruho asked, picking himself up off the floor. "I thought you were the only one with a game show?"
"NOOOO!" Tyrix's voice was almost shrill. "No no no no NO! Pretty much EVERY trickster god with access to pocket dimensions has a show! Loki, Anansi, Coyote, Hermes when he's bored, Eshu, Puck—the list goes on! But LOKI is the BIGGEST!"
"How big are we talking?" Ruho asked warily.
"He does this Survivor-Hunger-Games ripoff thing called Ragnarok Royale," Tyrix explained, his voice bitter. "Runs it every six months. Month-long event. Throws a hundred mortals into a pocket dimension and makes them fight to the death with progressively escalating disasters. Giants, dragons, world-ending catastrophes, the whole Norse mythology package. It's HUGE."
"How huge?"
"Twelve BILLION viewers per event," Tyrix said, and Ruho could hear the envy dripping from every word. "TWELVE. BILLION. You know how many humans have ever existed across all of history? About a hundred billion! Loki gets twelve percent of ALL HUMAN SOULS EVER to watch his stupid show EVERY SIX MONTHS!"
Ruho's eyes widened. "That's... that's insane. That's bigger than any TV show on Earth ever was."
"It's the BIGGEST show in the afterlife," Tyrix continued, his voice rising. "And he KNOWS it! He lords it over all us smaller producers! Acts like he invented entertainment! Which is why it is IMPERATIVE that you NEVER make a contract with Loki or ANY of the other trickster gods! Do you understand me?!"
Ruho sat back down on the couch, processing this information. Then a slow grin spread across his face. "So what you're saying is... I'm special."
There was a pause.
"What?" Tyrix asked.
"I'm special," Ruho repeated, his grin widening. "You just said Loki would want me. That other gods would want me. Which means I have value. Leverage. I'm not just some random dead guy, I'm a commodity."
"Well... yes," Tyrix admitted reluctantly. "You're the only human in recorded history to die with exactly fifty percent karma. You're unique. Rare. And yes, you're one of the fastest-growing new souls in terms of viewership, one to two million viewers per episode and it's been less than a week. Most souls take months to build an audience that size."
"One to two million viewers," Ruho said, his mind racing. "For your show specifically. But you don't have a contract with me, right? I never signed anything. Never agreed to exclusivity."
"That's—" Tyrix started.
"Which means," Ruho continued, standing up from the couch, "I could walk over to Loki right now and offer to be on HIS show if he offered me something better. Better rewards. Better survival odds. Better prizes."
"RUHO!" Tyrix's voice cracked with panic. "Buddy! Pal! Chum! You don't want to work with Loki! He's a TRICKSTER! It's literally in his job description! He'll screw you over! He'll twist any deal you make! He'll—"
"He'll probably treat me better than you have so far," Ruho shot back. "You've got me fighting for my life with minimal support, no resources, and a 'good luck, figure it out yourself' attitude. At least Loki's show sounds like it has actual structure. Actual rules."
"The rules change constantly!" Tyrix protested. "That's the whole POINT! He's chaos incarnate!"
Azirel's voice cut in, sounding resigned. "Ruho, think of it this way. You're like water. Nobody owns water, but there's Dasani, Fiji, Evian, all these different brands working with the same basic resource. Every god with a show can theoretically work with you, feature you, broadcast your struggles."
"Okay," Ruho said slowly. "So I'm the water. What's the catch?"
"The catch is that Azirel and I make more money, well, divine credits, whatever, if you stick with US exclusively," Tyrix admitted. "If you start appearing on other shows, taking deals with other gods, our viewership drops. Our revenue drops. We lose our competitive edge."
"So this IS about money," Ruho said. "Or divine credits. Or whatever you guys use as currency."
"It's about INVESTMENT!" Tyrix argued. "We invested in you FIRST! We took a chance on you when you were nobody! Just some guy who died jerking off! Now you're worth something, and you want to jump ship to a bigger producer?!"
"If that bigger producer can help me NOT DIE, then yes!" Ruho shouted back. "Absolutely yes! You just told me you have no idea how to help me! That I'm probably going to die no matter what I do! So why should I stay loyal to you?!"
"Because—because we have HISTORY together!" Tyrix sputtered. "Because Azirel brought you to this world! Because I gave you the Patron skill through Divine Intervention! Because—"
"Because you want my ratings," Ruho finished coldly. "That's it. That's the real reason. You don't care if I live or die as long as it's entertaining."
"That's not fair—"
"Fuck fair," Ruho interrupted. "I want a list. Every single god with a game show who might be interested in working with me. Every name. Every show. Every potential deal I could make. Give me OPTIONS instead of trying to trap me in your failing production."
"I am NOT giving you that list!" Tyrix said firmly. "That would be actively helping my competition! That would be INSANE from a business perspective!"
"Then I'll find them myself!" Ruho shot back. "I'll start praying to random gods until someone answers! Loki! Hey Loki! You out there?! Want to make a deal?!"
"DON'T!" Tyrix screamed. "Don't you DARE—"
"Loki! God of mischief! Trickster extraordinaire! I'm a mortal with unique karma and I'm taking offers!"
"RUHO, STOP!"
The argument escalated, both of them shouting over each other, Azirel trying unsuccessfully to mediate, when suddenly—
A new presence entered the room.
It was different from Azirel's chaotic energy or Vexor's solid authority or Tyrix's manic enthusiasm. This presence felt... slippery. Like trying to grab smoke. Ancient but playful. Dangerous but amused.
A voice spoke, smooth and casual and carrying the weight of thousands of years of causing problems on purpose.
"How are ya doing... Ruho?"