Epoch of Erasure [Ch. 2]: Chase the God

As cosmic secrets unravel Adam’s unwanted godhood, a deadly psychic bond forms—your choice will decide whether his rage becomes salvation or doom.

In Chapter 1, Adam—an unassuming podcaster turned unwilling god—found his way to the shattered ruins of Earth where Alex was brutally murdered.

…or was she? Once we reach 10 paid subscribers, the Void shifts. Timelines fracture. Some things—or some people—may not stay dead…or gone.

Or alive, really, I mean who knows re—

—the POINT IS: Shit is about to get spooky…er.

Current Subscriber Count 24APRIL

As Adam grappled with raw grief, his dormant divine power woke to an all out war with Victor (Envy).

Drained and broken, Adam managed to seemingly end Envy’s life with nothing but a normal, mortal blade. See HERE.

Victory comes at a cost: the world still bleeds, Alex’s memory still haunts him—and Adam finds himself trapped between godhood and humanity, forced to keep “babysitting.” (Wanna know how we got here? Check out the Interactive Pilot.)

If you haven’t read the first arc, End of the World Influencer, you can do that below.

End of the World Influencer: A Satirical, Dark Sci-Fi Series Debut​

Photo by Shot by Cerqueira on Unsplash

Where we left off last time:

My eyes close, the lids feeling like sandpaper over burst blood vessels, before snapping open again. The variable. Still there. Still silent.

After all that...

The universe remains indifferent, the rot continues—

And I still have to fucking babysit.

Epoch of Erasure: Part 1-The Stain of Envy

You Chose: Chase the God

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Annnd here they come. Fan-fucking-tastic. Just what I needed—more complications. Can't a guy mourn his murdered girlfriend and process his unwanted godhood in peace? Apparently fucking not.

My vision’s fractured but clear enough to sweep across the absolute shitshow that used to be a city. Sludge, decay, and the lingering cosmic BO of Victor. Charming.

There's a beat of silence—the kind that comes just before someone asks for something you don't have and definitely don't want to give. Then my gaze settles squarely on the walking disaster heading straight toward me. My eyes drag upward slowly, taking in the worn-out shoes, the terrified face.

My lungs scrape like ash-packed sacks. Every inch of me screams to stay down, but I don’t—I can’t. Apparently, godhood comes standard with shitty joints. Who knew?

I lift a shaky hand, cutting them off before they can remind me, yet again, just how spectacularly I’ve failed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” My voice cracks—there goes my last shred of dignity. “This wasn't exactly part of the deal.”

I’m not sure which ‘deal’ I’m even referencing. Survive-the-apocalypse? Screwed that one. The don't-let-your-girlfriend-get-murdered-by-a-backstabbing-space-bitch deal? Spectacularly fucked that one up too.

“We don’t really have time for group therapy either,” I grit out, feeling like I’m chewing on gravel. “Just… stay close. And don’t touch anything that looks…” A glance around confirms everything looks like toxic sludge actively trying to eat its surroundings. “…Just don’t touch anything.”

I feel like my brain’s running on dial-up trying to load a 4K movie—despite these supposed cosmic ‘gifts.’

Where the hell are we? Where are we going? No fucking clue. Just putting one foot in front of the other feels like a monumental task right now.

A tremor in the synapses then—a voice, slithering around the inside of my skull. Uninvited. Unwanted: “Just relax. Take a breath.”

Fucking Elliot.

Somehow – Someway – I know. And that pisses me off even more.

“FUCK, ELLIOT!” The sound tears from my throat, startlingly loud in the heavy silence. It echoes. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

My hands fly up to grip my head as if I could physically block him out.

He’s in my head—

Is he seeing the raw, bleeding mess where my brain used to be? My chest tightens, panic squeezing the very beat from my heart—

—immediately swallowed by white-hot rage.

Just another goddamn secret I didn't know—that everyone else knows—except me, apparently.

“If you don’t control yourself, you’re going to attract attention. Attention that you cannot handle in this state. I can’t come s—”

“I don’t WANT you here!” I roar at the empty air—spinning, searching for a target that is entirely in my head. “I don’t NEED saving!” My voice shreds itself raw. Gods—I sound pathetic. “Get OUT! Get out of my HEAD!”

The effort leaves me heaving, black spots dancing in my vision. My whole body’s vibrating with sheer, grinding exhaustion and a fury that feels too big for my own skin.

Before I can collapse, the ground underneath us gives a low, angry rumble.

“Damn it.” Elliot’s voice tightens, losing that infuriating smoothness for a half-second. “Adam, you need to move. Go. I’ll find you, but staying here? Bad idea. Very bad.”

His warning cuts off—
A sound scrapes across my teeth, vibrating against my jaw—a low, multi-toned hiss coiling up from every crack in the rubble.

Suddenly, the shadows surge. I catch the movement just in time to use my sputtering powers—throwing a wave of those oily looking fucks back. I can immediately feel my magic tank—barely above E—draining again, causing me to stumble and collapse to my knees.

“You have GOT to be fucking kidding me right now.” I mutter, trying for a deep breath—getting nothing but stabbing pain in my chest.

Then the air goes heavy. Every hair on my arms stands up. In that charged instant I know: Elliot’s found a way in.

“If you’re finished with your tantrum, I can’t hold them for long.” His voice comes out light, as if he’s just seen an old friend.

One shape lunges—its maw snapping open in a scream of white-hot agony the moment it breaches that barrier. Black ichor hisses down its charred limbs. It recoils, smokes, dissipates back into the shadows.

The next creature hesitates—then flings itself against the invisible wall only to slam backward..

Shape by shape slam against Elliot’s psychic barrier—recoiling, and ripping their outlines—again and again. A narrow passage opens ahead, glowing with a searing boundary line.

“The corridor’s open,” Elliot’s smooth voice slides into my mind, cool as a whisper. “But every second you hesitate, the scent of fear will draw more. Move—now—toward the Opus Silentio fragment. I’ll meet you there.”

We pick our way through the slit Elliot carved into reality—a psychic tunnel that feels more like a tomb of dead air so heavy that it squeezes sweat from my pores. Every step feels like gravity’s kneecapping my legs. I taste salt and rust on my tongue, and part of me wants to lie down in the dust and stay.

We spill into what must have been a plaza at some point. Shards of concrete from the old fountain lie like broken teeth; rebar reaches into the ash-choked wind like skeletal fingers. There, framed in gray light, stands Elliot.

He isn’t smug or welcoming—just impossibly still, one foot planted on fractured stone. In his hand, I see an ancient book: black as a starless void, its edges vibrating like a trapped insect. He doesn’t blink.

Is this the Book?

He lifts his head, and his golden eyes lock onto mine. The world tilts with rage.

“Fuck you.” I snap—each step closer to Elliot gaining purpose. The earth quakes beneath my boots—fueled by hollow pride.

His lips twitch into something almost like a smile. “Adam—”

I surge forward, fist coiled like a guillotine. He doesn’t dodge or block. He just catches my wrist—so gently it mocks my fury.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss and try to pull away. His thumb presses into my pulse, stilling the tremor in my arm.

“You set me up,” I rasp. “You let Thalia kill Alex.”

His gaze never wavers. “Thalia overstepped,” he says, each syllable a surgical cut. “Her wrath has always been… excessive.”

His words echo in my skull louder than any scream. “And a jealous streak that made Envy, well, envious.”

“Victor? Envy?” I laugh, bitter as acid. “This is what’s left of that pathetic excuse for a god—because of me.”

“Adam, tell me you didn’t,” he murmurs, stepping forward like a shadow sliding over the corpse of a god. There’s a beat of silence as his eyes search mine—like he’s looking for someone he’s lost in the reflection.

“Envy is—was—a liability. It’s for the best.”

He pauses. “Do you remember? Anything…?”

For a heartbeat, his expression softens—I see the crack in my armor. Then he raises his hands in a silent truce.

“This was never meant to happen.”

The entire world seems to hold its breath, as if punctuating the tension. He continues, “I only agreed to help Thalia because she seemed genuinely remorseful for being the one responsible for your…fall from grace. I wanted to help you—free you.”

I want to hurl the book in his hand, burn it to ash, punch a hole through that calm certainty. Instead, I stare at my trembling hands, feeling less like a god and more like splintered bone.

I don’t trust him. Not for a second. And yet… I do.

I lift my eyes to the shattered skyline. Alex is gone—erased by forces I barely understand. Screaming changes nothing.

“Where do we go?” My voice is hollow, a ragged whisper against the ruin.

He tucks a dark lock of hair behind his ear, the book loose in his other hand. For a flicker, relief ghosts his features—then vanishes.

“Forward,” he says. “Together. But there’s one more sacrifice before we move.”

He steps closer, almost as if drinking in the space between us like he’s savoring the moment before a knife drops.

“My magic runs on emotion,” he says softly. “That barrier only held because I siphoned off of your fury. But fury burns bright and dies fast—plus, gods process emotion differently. We can’t sustain power on an ember alone. If I’m going to keep you safe, I need a permanent anchor: a constant well of feeling in this reality. Someone who never runs dry.”

He pauses, letting the weight of it settle.

“Someone… like you.”

The words land like a death sentence.

All eyes land on the human who, legally, I may or may not have kidnapped.

“Well…?”

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Read Chapter 3 Below

Poll: Which path do you take? Remember:
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A) Bind Yourself — Let Elliot tether to your mind. His barrier will be unbreakable, powered by your psyche. But once inside your skull, he won’t leave until he’s ready.

(At least Elliot knocked first…?)

B) Keep Your Mind — Refuse the psychic bond. Guard your autonomy. Stay clean. Stay you. But without your mind fueling him, Adam’s next step becomes a blood-soaked gamble.

(No surprises. No trespasses. But you’ll feel the consequences. Eventually.)