GODGAME

The Monster Next Door

SAME TIME.

SOMEWHERE IN DIVERSE CITY.

A weary man walked down the street, dragging his feet, as though his limbs were heavy as lead. He clutched a plastic grocery bag, a heavy sigh escaping his lips every few steps.

"Daytime is too damn busy," he muttered, keeping his head low. "Nighttime is way better, and more quiet."

He turned the corner, heading toward a secluded, rundown neighborhood.

As he passed a dark alleyway, a sharp sound caught his attention.

"Just hand over the purse, and nobody gets hurt!"

A thug cornered a woman against the brick wall, holding a small knife in his hand.

The woman didn't hesitate in surrendering.

She threw her hands up, trembling. "Here! Take it! Just please, don't hurt me!"

The weary man stopped as he heard the confrontation.

He stared into the alley and his brows furrowed into a frown.

When he spoke, the exhaustion vanished from his voice, replaced by a cold sharp tone.

"Hey. Leave her alone."

The thug's head snapped toward the entrance of the alley.

He sized up the man's tired face and baggy clothes, making the newcomer look way beyond vulnerable, and a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Great! Bonus prize."

He swung the knife toward the newcomer. "Wallet. Now. Throw in the grocery bag too."

The weary man tilted his head, his expression deadpan. "Why are you attacking her? She's clearly weaker than you. Why use your strength to bully the weak, instead of protecting them?"

The thug blinked, genuinely thrown off.

He looked at the crying woman, then back to the man.

"What the hell? Who do you think you are, some kind of saint? Why are you talking like a saint?"

The man exhaled a slow sigh. "A saint? Please. I'm just someone strong helping someone weak."

'Tsk!' The thug clicked his tongue in annoyance, gripping the knife tighter. "Shut your damn mouth and give me your cash!"

The woman, terrified, yelled from behind him. "Just give him the money! Please, don't fight him! It's not worth your life! Just let it go!"

The man shook his head.

"Kind words," he murmured, looking at her. "I really do adore good humans. But the bad ones..."

He bent down, carefully setting his grocery bag on the concrete.

"I despise them. And I hate nothing more than trash who prey on the weak."

The thug's veins popped on his forehead. "I'm not here to listen to your chuunibyou monologues!"

He lunged forward, the blade sliced through the air, aimed straight for the man's chest.

"DIE, HERO!"

The woman screamed and clamped her eyes shut, dreading the sound of tearing flesh.

CLANG!

The sound wasn't a squish, It was the screech of metal hitting solid iron.

The blade bent completely backward, snapping against the man's chest.

The thug's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "What the actual fuck..."

He tried to scramble backward, but it was already too late. "What the—"

RIP!

The weary man's sleeve tore to shreds. His arm expanded, morphing into a massive, grotesque appendage covered in thick, jagged chitin.

His eyes flashed a predatory, blood-red.

"I usually hunt and devour the strong," the man's voice vibrated, deep and monstrous. "But I don't mind cleaning up the trash. Besides, your flesh will have to do. I haven't had a proper meal in twenty years."

The thug's pupils dilated in pure horror as the massive, armored hand clamped entirely over his head.

...

The woman slowly opened her eyes. "Huh? What—?"

The alley was dead silent.

The thug was gone, and the strange man was gone.

There was no blood, no body, no sign of a struggle.

Only her purse lay on the ground.

"Huh...?"

She didn't waste time questioning her sanity, but instead, grabbed her bag and ran like hell.

A block away, the weary man walked casually down the street, cleaning his lips with the back of his hand.

"Disgusting," he spat, coughing up a human tooth onto the road. "Dull essence! Barely any energy to harvest. But... as the humans say, half a loaf is better than none."

He nodded to himself, lifting his grocery bag to check inside.

"Wait. Did I get the instant noodles? Let's see... ah. Yes."

He let out a sigh of relief. "Good. I can't survive a single day without instant noodles."

A few minutes later, he turned into a cramped, noisy tenement building.

The stairwell reeked of trash bags, and the thin walls vibrated with the shouting of a dozen different families.

Just as he reached his door, the apartment opposite had its door creaking open.

His neighbor stepped out, wearing a stained tank top and oversized jeans. He took a heavy drag from a cigarette, his voice raspy and ruined by smoke.

"Yo, dude. You coming over to watch the match tonight? Got some cold beers."

The weary man turned. "The match? Sure. I will accept your invitation."

The neighbor laughed, breaking into a rough cough. "Man, you're still as weirdly formal as ever! But hey, it's better than staying locked up in your dark room all day."

The man gave a small, polite smile. "I prefer the indoors. It's better than the noise out there. Although daytime shopping isn't bad, walking around at night is the only thing that calms my mind."

"Then the bar is where you need to be," the neighbor chuckled, turning back into his apartment. "Anyway, see you at seven. Don't flake on me."

The door clicked shut.

The weary man stared at the wood for a moment, his expression softening.

"I really do have wonderful human friends."

Turning the key in his lock, he stepped inside.

The apartment was a single, cramped room, without enough space to spin around.

A bed sat in one corner, and a small table was pushed against the window, covered in neatly arranged miniature models.

The moment the door clicked shut, the man's entire demeanor shattered.

Thud.

The grocery bag slipped from his fingers, spilling onto the floor.

Without a second thought, he dropped to one knee, hitting the floorboards hard. He bowed his head so low his forehead nearly touched the ground, cold sweat instantly drenching his face.

"Lord Zagaroth!"

"Oh, please. Cut the formalities."

Za was sitting comfortably on the single chair, his legs casually crossed.

"We aren't in the Monsterverse anymore," Za said, waving a dismissive hand. "You can just call me Za here, Arcus."