In 2026, the gods descended.
Olympus, Asgard, Cthulhu... The entire world became a pasture for the gods, and human lives were worth less than grass.
My name is Chen Xuan, Patient 308 at Jiangnan Psychiatric Hospital.
My medical records say “severe delusions.” I take my medication on time every day, talk to cats, and occasionally draw strange symbols on the walls that no one can understand.
Then the blood moon rose, and the nurse's face split open before me, seven orifices gaping as tentacles sprouted from her body.
I sighed and shoved my toothbrush into her forehead.
“Fine, I'm crazy,” I said, standing on the monster's head and swallowing that scrap of divine power. “But could you at least wait until after rounds to transform? You're really interrupting my sleep.”
When the Night Watchers burst in, I was squatting in a pile of corpses, counting.
“Chen Xuan! What are you, exactly?!”
I looked up at the fully armed special forces and grinned.
“Me? Just a severely ill patient who has to take his medication on time.”
Later, when the Thunder God raised his hammer, I ripped a god apart in front of everyone.
Later, when the gods surrounded the city, I walked through the crowd, munching on an apple.
Later, when the Old Ones tore open the dimensions, I burped and told the Great Xia Night Watchers behind me:
“Don't panic. Give me a moment to digest.”
The gods think I'm insane. Humanity thinks I'm its savior.
Only I know that the thing I swallowed in that experiment three years ago wasn't medicine. It was “the Old Ones.”
And now, it's time to eat.
