“I can’t watch this!” Lyrathos shouted from her little corner of infinity.

“Of course you can! You’ve been watching this for centuries,” he replied from the opposite corner of infinity. “You love the show.”

“No, I don’t.” She sounded determined, but he knew better.

He cast a dreadful look toward her, and her shoulders dropped. At least, that’s how he perceived the moment.

There was a screen in the middle of the room they created for themselves, but in reality, neither of them was looking at it. They didn’t need to. They saw it all, beyond the edits of mortal minds, the lighting they provided, the show… none of that mattered. They saw it as it was.

And what Lyrathos watched with their eyes was quite stunning, even for a god.

The boy, Zach, kept fighting alongside his companions, all from different races and genders. Zyrathos had seen enough worlds born and die to understand that this kind of alliance was worth watching. These were the ones who helped shape the history of so many worlds, and right now, they were making it impossible for them to feel what they feared the most… boredom.

“He’s going to die, won’t he?” Lyrathos asked, her voice feminine and afraid.

“Of course, he will. They all die, and you cheer for them anyway, only to cry when they lay in pieces,” he replied, his voice strong and reverberating.

“If you’d throw in the towel and agree to sponsor him, that wouldn’t be a problem,” she retorted, and he scoffed.

“They aren’t worth it. He’s a kind-hearted bastard. We don’t need that; we have enough to worry about.”

“We have nothing to worry about! We’re gods.”

“Locked gods,” he hissed, and she thought he was stamping his feet on the ground like so many children had done over time. Funny how some expressions would be similar on different planets, in different universes. Humanity always prevailed. That thought alone filled her heart with hope and his with dread.

An eternity locked in the void. Limited powers. Limited reach. Endless boredom.

They had uncountable schemes around the universe at play. Armies fighting from the kind face of Lyrathos or the merciless side of Lyrathos.

All working to free them, most without knowing.

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None would succeed, they knew it.

They hated each other, but they couldn’t live without each other.

At least, for the past few centuries, they had this moment.

The show, as he had called it when he discovered their existence. She despised it at first, but then she couldn’t take her eyes off it. There was something about the struggles of humanity that captured her, and the bastard knew it.

He loved seeing her suffer, wanting to help, but the rules were strict. Some outer deity oversaw the show, and their powers seemed unlimited.

No matter how she tried to sponsor someone alone, she could never make her reach touch the mortal, and Lyrathos would laugh at her attempts, not knowing which part of the show he liked most—the one on the screen or the one before him.

They watched as the goblin abomination rampaged against the four individuals. They were doomed if they didn’t start working together.

The creature was stronger than all of them, and some of their attacks weren’t enough to stop it. The small female human seemed the most out of place. She looked so fragile and had chosen a warrior’s path; she’d be the first to die.

Except Zach was there to help her, much to the excitement of Lyrathos and to their anger as well.

“See? He could’ve let the goblin finish her off and take advantage of the window, but he’s too soft for a sponsorship,” he grumbled, arms crossed, stretching to the size of whole constellations.

“We’re supposed to be a middle ground. You’re too extreme.”

He shrugged. She’d told him that a million times already. Was it wrong of her to expect to come to an agreement with him?

She thought he’d come to an understanding eventually, but it never came.

Zach kept fighting, escaping with his life in the last second and, for the first time in centuries, making both faces of Lyrathos cheer.

“That boy is soft, but he’s a fighter,” he said.

“He is,” she agreed, watching him slide on the ground, heave himself up, and fly toward the goblin.

The monster was about to tear his friend apart, and he couldn’t let that happen. He’d slay the monster to save his friends, just like Lyrathos deemed important.

He was sacrificing himself for the others, just like Lyrathos hated. But when he came upon the goblin, something seemed to grow inside the human. Something Lyrathos had seen in him before but had chosen to ignore.

The chaos side of the god knew there was something extra to that man after all, and when he started finishing the enemy with no kindness, no mercy—only the desire to kill—something new stirred inside the god as well.

They were one.

It took only a second, but the euphoria filled their godly bodies with divine excitement.

In the next second, Zach posed victorious.

His friends were saved, his enemies annihilated.

Maybe this human is worth it, he thought.

Please, she said softly into his ear.

Maybe… He sponsored the man before he could regret it.

Maybe he could free them after all. Maybe he could actually do something.

They would at least have some fun watching it.