My God Is a Clumsy Disaster

Chapter 2: Stumbling Through the Rubble

"Run," Kenji wheezed, the word barely escaping his throat before he was already bolting.

"Way ahead of you, kid! My cardio is surprisingly decent for a deity of sedentary lifestyle!" Ares-Minus shouted, sprinting beside him with his toga flapping like a distressed flag.

They scrambled up the concrete incline, their boots scraping against the slick tile. Behind them, the subway entrance erupted with the wet, crunching sounds of a dozen creatures piling over each other. It sounded like a blender full of gravel and meat.

"Is that a mob? Please tell me that’s not a mob," Kenji panted, his lungs burning as they burst out onto the chaotic, debris-strewn street of Shibuya.

"Statistically? It’s definitely a mob," Ares-Minus replied, sounding far too cheerful for a man currently being hunted by flesh-eating abominations. "On the bright side, the group dynamic looks aggressive. Very 'team player' sort of monsters."

"I don't care about their synergy!" Kenji swerved around a flipped-over taxi, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped drum. "Find us a place to hole up! Somewhere with doors! Somewhere with, I don't know, a structural engineer who actually did their job!"

"The mall!" Ares-Minus pointed a finger toward a shattered glass facade a block away. "Department store, third floor, top-tier security—if by 'security' you mean 'glass doors that lock if you slam them hard enough.'"

"You are the most useless divine entity in the history of the pantheon," Kenji gritted out, diving through a jagged hole in the storefront’s plate glass.

They skidded across the linoleum, Kenji grabbing a heavy metal trash can and wedging it firmly against the shattered entry point just as a heavy, gray hand smashed against the other side. The impact rattled the entire frame, sending dust raining down from the ceiling tiles.

"Okay, okay," Kenji breathed, sliding down the wall and burying his face in his hands. "Okay. We’re in. We’re safe. For five minutes. How’s the reservoir? Any juice?"

Ares-Minus leaned against a mannequin wearing a suit that was definitely out of style. He held out his hands, concentrating. Nothing happened. He tried wiggling his fingers, then puffed out his cheeks.

"Zero. Zilch. Nada. The 'Minor Inconvenience' battery pack is currently as dry as that towel you used," the god admitted, looking genuinely apologetic. "But, hey, look on the bright side! We’re surrounded by high-end retail. We could probably find you some better equipment."

"I need food, not a new shirt," Kenji snapped, standing up and dusting himself off. "Check the kiosks. Look for anything that isn't made of synthetic polyester or perfume."

They moved cautiously through the darkened floor, the only light coming from the faint, pathetic mustard glow emanating from Kenji’s palms. As they passed a food court area, Ares-Minus wandered toward a vending machine. He tapped it with a contemplative look.

"I bet I can get you a snack," the god whispered.

"Don't. Just don't," Kenji warned. "Everything you touch breaks or makes things worse."

Ares-Minus ignored him, tapping the glass. "One packet of dried seaweed, coming right up."

The god’s aura flickered—that pale, dull yellow light pulsating briefly. Suddenly, the entire row of vending machines groaned. Not with the sound of dispensing snacks, but with the screech of an electrical overload. A piercing, shrill sound began to wail through the silent mall.

"Fire alarm!" Kenji shouted, covering his ears. "Are you kidding me? You triggered the fire alarm?"

"It was supposed to be a 'door-open' command! I think I switched the inputs again!" Ares-Minus yelled over the deafening klaxon. "Technically, the sprinklers are an inconvenience to fire, right? So it’s on-brand!"

"It's a dinner bell for every monster in a three-block radius!"

Kenji grabbed the god by the toga and shoved him toward the back storage area. They hadn't gone ten feet before a shadow detached itself from the gloom of the shadows near the escalators.

The figure was human—or mostly human. He wore tactical gear that looked like it had been scavenged from a military surplus bin, and in his hand, a sword hummed with a sharp, terrifyingly focused silver light. The air around the blade seemed to vibrate, slicing through the dust motes in the air.

"New arrivals," the man sneered, his eyes narrow and predatory. "And look at that. You’ve got a godling with you. A pathetic one, from the look of that aura."

Kenji stopped dead, his hands trembling. "Look, we’re just looking for food. We don't want any trouble."

"Food is for the strong, kid," the man said, stepping forward. The blade in his hand flared brighter. "And that godling? He’s pure energy. I could probably feed my own manifestation for a week if I harvested him."

"Hey!" Ares-Minus stepped in front of Kenji, though his legs were clearly shaking. "First of all, I have very little nutritional value. I’m mostly celestial bureaucracy and bad luck. Second, you’re being incredibly rude."

The man laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "I’m the wielder of the God of Sharp Blades. I don't need to be polite. I just need to be fast."

He lunged, the sword cutting a glowing arc through the dark. Kenji’s instinct screamed, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor.

"Ares-Minus, do something!" Kenji shrieked, ducking as the blade whistled inches above his hair, shearing through a decorative display unit behind him.

"I’m trying! I’m really trying!" the god yelled, frantically waving his hands as if trying to shoo away a fly.

The man swung again, a precision strike meant to pin Kenji to the wall. But as the blade descended, the fire alarm reached a crescendo of mechanical failure. The overhead sprinkler system, already struggling with the god's accidental interference, chose that exact moment to buckle.

A massive, heavy-duty display rack—stacked with glass cases and heavy ceramic kitchenware—shifted, triggered by the vibration of the god’s failed 'inconvenience' aura warping the floorboards. It tipped forward with the sound of a falling skyscraper.

The man with the sword didn't have time to dodge. He was showered in a deluge of porcelain plates, glass jars, and heavy metal shelves, the entire assembly pinning him to the floor in a chaotic, clattering mess.

Kenji blinked, stunned. He looked at the pile of debris, then at the god.

"Did you... did you just weaponize a kitchen display?"

Ares-Minus straightened his toga, looking smug despite the sweat on his brow. "I believe that falls under the category of 'unforeseen domestic obstruction.' It’s very high-level stuff, really."

The man under the pile let out a guttural roar, the silver light of his blade beginning to burn through the debris like a blowtorch.

"He’s getting out!" Kenji yelled, his eyes widening.

"Yeah, we should probably go," Ares-Minus noted, already backing away toward the service exit.

"Run!" Kenji didn't have to be told twice. He sprinted toward the back stairs, his heart hammering in his throat.

"I’m telling you, kid, this is going to be a long day!" the god called out, tripping over his own hem but somehow staying upright.

"If we survive this," Kenji shouted back, "I am going to trade you in for a toaster!"

"Fair! But you'll miss the chaotic charm!"

They dived into the dark stairwell, the sound of the enraged survivor tearing through metal echoing behind them, hunting them down through the ruins of the shopping center. Kenji didn't look back; he just kept running, pra

ying that the next inconvenience was something—anything—that might actually save them.