My God Is a Clumsy Disaster

Chapter 6: Freefall Comedy

The concrete abutment didn’t just crack; it disintegrated. One moment, Kenji was hauling himself onto solid ground, and the next, the world lurched downward, turning into a vertiginous blur of rusted rebar and pulverized stone.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Kenji screamed, his voice swallowed by the roar of the collapsing bridge.

"Gravity is just a suggestion, Kenji! Use it! Influence it! Make it inconvenient for the ground to be so hard!" Ares-Minus shrieked, his grip on Kenji’s jacket tightening until the fabric groaned.

"How the hell do I influence gravity?" Kenji roared, wind tearing at his clothes as the plummet accelerated. He looked down at the dark, roiling surface of the Sumida River, which was rushing toward them like an executioner’s blade. "I’m not a god! I’m a guy who just wants to go home and sleep for a week!"

"Visualize! Manifest! Think about something soft! Think about something bouncy!" Ares-Minus yelled, his eyes squeezed shut, his mustard-colored aura flickering around his trembling hands like a dying lightbulb. "We need a buffer! A structural safety net! Give me a parachute, a giant pillow, a bouncy castle, anything!"

"A bouncy castle?" Kenji’s brain felt like it was frying. "We’re falling at terminal velocity and you want a circus attraction?"

"I’m running out of creative options here, kid! The divine interface is literally screaming at me to stop overclocking the reality-distortion engine!"

The river was seconds away. Kenji could see the oil slicks reflecting the sickly moonlight. He shoved his hands outward, desperate, his palms glowing that pathetic, tepid yellow. He didn't want a sword. He didn't want a towel. He wanted—he needed—anything that would keep his bones from shattering into a thousand pieces.

"Fine! You want a bounce? Take it!" Kenji bellowed, channeling every ounce of his adrenaline into the void.

A massive, wet thump echoed in the air, followed by the squeal of rubber stretching to its absolute limit. Between Kenji and the unforgiving concrete bank, a sprawling, neon-polka-dot inflatable clown materialized. It wasn't just a prop; it was a monstrosity. It stood twelve feet tall, its painted smile terrifyingly wide, and its bulbous red nose pulsed with a faint, mocking divine energy.

"What is that?" Kenji yelped, just before he impacted the clown’s oversized, plastic belly.

BOING.

The landing wasn't graceful. Kenji and Ares-Minus hit the clown with enough force to send it bouncing halfway across the riverbank. The air inside the plastic creature hissed, then held. Kenji tumbled off the edge of the clown’s fabric shoulder, hitting a pile of damp, discarded trash bags with a muffled grunt.

He lay there for a second, panting, checking his limbs. His ribs felt bruised, and his pride was significantly worse for wear, but he was alive.

"That," Ares-Minus gasped, scrambling off the pile and untangling his toga from a stray piece of rebar, "was a masterpiece of inconvenience. Did you see how confused that clown looked when it spawned? Perfection."

Kenji didn't laugh. He couldn't. His ears were ringing, and his pulse was a frantic rhythm against his skull. He rolled over, staring up at the neon-colored monstrosity that had saved his life. It was slowly deflating, its giant, painted eyes rolling back as it sagged into a heap of colorful, lifeless plastic.

"We aren't out of the woods," Kenji whispered, his hand going to his belt. He pulled out the flashlight he’d scavenged earlier. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating their surroundings.

They weren't on a riverbank anymore. They were in a cavernous, sunken area beneath a collapsed overpass. The walls were lined with strange, calcified cocoons, and the ground was littered with the remnants of previous, less fortunate travelers—scavenged packs, rusted weapons, and bones that looked far too human to ignore.

"Oh, great," Ares-Minus muttered, his voice dropping to a nervous quiver. "We fell into a nest. A Grade-A, high-density, 'we are definitely going to be eaten' nest."

"Don't move," Kenji hissed, clicking the flashlight off. "If they haven't seen us yet, maybe—"

"Too late," the god whispered, pointing toward the ceiling of the concrete cavern.

Hundreds of small, glowing, pale-blue eyes were blinking open in the darkness. The clicking sound began, soft at first, then growing in intensity until it sounded like a thousand typewriters clacking in a hollow room.

"They’re scavengers," Kenji whispered, his fingers cramping around the flashlight. "The same type we saw at the mall. But there are too many."

"They’re looking at the clown," Ares-Minus observed, his voice tinged with a weird sort of professional interest. "I think they’re... insulted by it. Look, they’re circling."

The creatures descended from the shadows—humanoid, gaunt, and twitching with a predatory, insect-like energy. They moved with unnatural fluid speed, their limbs elongated and tipped with bone-spurs. They weren't charging; they were curious, sniffing the air, their attention entirely focused on the massive, deflating rubber clown.

"They think it’s prey," Kenji realized, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck. "If they realize we’re the ones who made it, we’re finished."

"Okay, new plan," Ares-Minus whispered, edging toward a pile of debris. "We back away slowly. Very slowly. Like, 'we are not here, we are just a figment of your collective nightmare' slow."

Kenji stood, his muscles screaming. He took one step back, his boot crunching loudly on a piece of broken glass.

The room went silent.

Every pair of glowing eyes snapped toward them in unison. The lead scavenger, a hulking creature with jagged armor made of scavenged motorcycle parts, let out a chattering hiss that vibrated in Kenji’s very marrow.

"Run?" Kenji suggested, his heart hitting his throat.

"Run!" Ares-Minus agreed, already bolting toward the shadows of the overpass pillars.

They scrambled over the trash, Kenji’s lungs burning as they pushed past the piles of refuse. Behind them, the screech of the swarm followed—a chorus of clicking teeth and skittering claws. They were fast, closing the distance with terrifying ease.

"They’re gaining on us!" Ares-Minus yelled, his toga getting snagged on a rusted pipe. He ripped it free with a frantic tug. "Do you have any more party favors? A giant bouncy ball? A trampoline?"

"I’m out of juice, you moron!" Kenji shouted, ducking behind a pillar as a bone-spur whistled past his head, embedding itself into the concrete with a sickening crack. "My hands are empty! We’re going to have to actually fight!"

"I don't know how to fight! I’m a minor deity! My only defense is making life slightly irritating for my enemies!"

"Then make them irritated!" Kenji dived behind a stack of crates, spinning around to face the oncoming swarm. He held the flashlight like a club, his knuckles white. "If they’re going to eat us, they’re going to have to work for it!"

The scavengers swarmed the area, their bodies a blur of gray motion. They slowed only when they reached the pile of discarded belongings, their movements jerky as they inspected the area. Kenji tensed, waiting for the pounce.

Suddenly, a brilliant, silver-white streak cut through the cavern.

It wasn't a god’s light. It was cold, sharp, and unmistakably lethal. The light scythed through the air, hitting the lead scavenger with such force that the creature was sliced cleanly in half before it even had time to scream.

The swarm recoiled, hissing and clicking in confusion as the light expanded, illuminating the entire cavern. Standing at the entrance of the nesting ground was a figure cloaked in heavy, layered tactical gear that looked like it had been forged from aircraft plating. In their hand, a long, slender blade pulsed with a steady, commanding rhythm.

The stranger didn't look like a scavenger. They didn't look like a survivor, either. They moved with the grace of a predator who owned the ruins.

The remaining creatures, sensing a threat far greater than two panicked teenagers, shrieked and scattered, vanishing back into the deep, dark crevices of the overpass.

Silence returned, thick and heavy.

The stranger walked forward, the tip of their sword scraping against the concrete. They stopped twenty feet from Kenji and Ares-Minus, the white glow of their blade casting long, dancing shadows.

"Not bad," the stranger said, their voice smooth, dangerous, and utterly calm. They tilted their head, their visor reflecting the dim glow of Kenji’s flashlight. "A giant clown to cushion a fall? I haven't seen a display of divine incompetence that creative since the first week of the collapse."

Kenji stood his ground, though his legs were shaking uncontrollably. "Who are you?"

The stranger lowered the sword, the white glow dimming just enough to reveal eyes that were sharp, analytical, and terrifyingly focused.

"I’m the person who’s going to keep you alive long enough to answer a few questions," the stranger said, stepping closer. "Starting with this: exactly what kind of god are you dragging around, and how did you manage to manifest a carnival attraction in the middle of a war zone?"

Kenji looked at Ares-Minus, who was currently trying to hide behind his own glowing, mustard-stained palms.

"It’s a long story," Kenji muttered, gripping his flashlight tighter. "And honestly? I’m not sure I even know the answer."