Chapter 34:The God Slayer
Dillion turned at the tap on his shoulder, already bracing for another joke about his nickname.
“Water Gun.”
He recognized the voice immediately.
Jerry Huston stood there in a black hoodie, hands in his pockets, relaxed like they’d bumped into each other at a coffee shop instead of the middle of a mall.
“Jerry.”
Jerry smiled.
“Congratulations.”
It wasn’t sarcastic.
It wasn’t forced.
Just direct.
“For Sobek,” he added. “That was clean.”
Dillion studied him carefully. “You watched it.”
“Of course I watched it,” Jerry replied. “I’ve been trying to pull him out for almost a year.”
That caught Dillion’s attention.
“You’ve fought in the Aquaduct.”
Jerry let out a short laugh.
“I’ve died a lot in the Aquaduct during my time. There’s a difference.”
He leaned casually against a pillar beside them.
“You know why my death count’s so high?” he asked.
“Because you don't know how to give up?”
Jerry grinned. “Partially. Mostly because I test boundaries. I don’t treat Depth zones like playgrounds. I push them.”
His expression shifted slightly.
“And Sobek never surfaced for me.”
The mall noise hummed around them. Completely normal.
“You’re stronger than me,” Dillion said.
“In raw output? Yeah,” Jerry replied without hesitation. “In field time? Definitely.”
He looked Dillion over calmly.
“And that’s what bothered me.”
Dillion didn’t respond.
“I thought if anyone was going to draw something like Sobek,” Jerry continued, “it’d be someone forcing escalation. Someone breaking thresholds.”
He tilted his head slightly. “You didn’t break anything.”
“I was trying not to die,” Dillion said.
“Exactly.”
That word sat between them.
Jerry’s tone shifted more thoughtful now.
“You weren’t trying to dominate the encounter. You were surviving it. There’s a difference.”
Dillion held his gaze. “You think that matters?”
“I think intent matters,” Jerry replied.
“I was part of the party that took down the first God Encounter,” Jerry continued. “I remembered it feeling like a puzzle. Timers. Rotations. You hit the right window, you win.”
He paused.
“Sobek didn’t feel like he was just another Encounter.”
Dillion felt something tighten in his chest.
Jerry watched him carefully.
“Relax,” Jerry added lightly. “I’m not saying the world’s alive or anything.” as Jerry chuckled a little bit.
Jerry knew exactly what to say as if his words held implications to something he shouldn't be talking about.
Dillion narrowed his eyes slightly. “That’s not funny.”
Jerry’s smirk softened.
“I know.”
He looked out across the mall for a second, watching people walk by with shopping bags and strollers.
"I wonder if these people ever ask themselves if they really exist?.
Jerry continued.
“Here’s the thing,” “You spend enough time in Sora, it starts to feel real. Neural sync does that. The pain, the pressure, the water resistance your brain fills in gaps.”
His eyes returned to Dillion.
“Especially during high-stress encounters.”
There it was, Reassurance and Grounding, Just like Alexandra Vale
Like he was gently walking Dillion back from a ledge.
“You’re saying it felt different because of immersion,” Dillion said carefully.
“I’m saying your brain is very good at protecting you,” Jerry replied.
“But I will admit,” he added casually, “I was envious.”
That surprised Dillion more than anything else so far.
“Envious?”
“Yeah,” Jerry said. “I’ve chased that encounter for months. I could feel something in that zone. Something waiting.”
He shrugged.“I just thought it was just hidden content.”
He let that phrase sit deliberately.
Hidden content? “You don’t believe that,” Dillion said quietly.
Jerry smiled faintly. “Believe what?”
“That it was just content.”
Jerry studied him for a long second.
Then he chuckled. “You’re overthinking this.”
His tone lightened intentionally. “It’s a game, Dillion.”
He gestured subtly toward the skylight above them, toward the real sun filtering in.
“This is real. That’s code.”
The words were simple,Clear, Convincing and yet....
Jerry’s eyes didn’t fully agree with what he was saying.
“I’ve logged more hours than you,” Jerry continued. “I’ve died more times than anyone in that world. I’ve seen players lose themselves chasing immersion.”
His expression sharpened slightly.
“Don’t be that guy.”
Ellie’s voice rang out from the ice cream stand.
“Water Guuun!”
Jerry glanced toward her and smirked.
“She your girlfriend?”
“My sister.”
“She seems normal.”
“She is.”
“Good.”
Jerry pushed off the pillar.
“For what it’s worth,” he said calmly, “you earned that clear. You adapted well. You controlled the field better than most players twice your experience.”
That was genuine.
“You’ll go far,” Jerry added. "You should't make a Career out of Sora."
Then his tone shifted just slightly.
"Don't be like me"
“Just remember this one thing Water Gun.”
Dillion held his gaze.
“And what is that?”
Jerry’s smile returned easy, controlled.
“Sora at the end of the day, Is just a very well-designed video game.”
He stepped back.
“And don’t let anyone guild, fans, or your own head convince you otherwise.”
Ellie approached them, holding two cones.
She slowed when she noticed Jerry.
“…Oh.”
Jerry nodded politely to her.
“Take care of your brother,” he said casually.
Then he looked back at Dillion one last time.
“See you in Sora.”
And he walked away.
No rush.
No drama.
Just gone.
Ellie looked at Dillion.
“That was Death Walker, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
She blinked. “Why do all your gamer friends look like they’re hiding secrets?”
Dillion didn’t answer right away.
Because that was the problem.
Jerry had spoken like someone who’d felt something deeper.
Then walked it back.
Grounded it.
Labeled it.
Just a Game.
Immersion is just coding.
He’d blurred the line just to redrawn it.
And Dillion wasn’t sure which version to trust.
Ellie insisted on eating the ice cream in the car.
“Absolutely not,” Dillion said as she tried to slide into the passenger seat mid-lick.
“It’s sealed,” she argued.
“It’s melting.”
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“stains build character.
She groaned but finished it outside, dramatically complaining about how little faith he had in her maturity.
By the time they were on the road, the sun had dipped lower, bathing everything in soft gold.
Ellie sat clutching the dress bag in her lap like it was fragile glass.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said again, quieter now.
“I know.”
“I was ready to settle.”
“I know.”
She glanced at him.
“…You’ve been weird lately.”
“Weird how?”
“Focused. Like you’re thinking about something else even when you’re here.”
Dillion kept his eyes on the road.
“I’ve just been busy.”
“With the bookstore?”
He hesitated a fraction too long.
“Yeah.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re lying, but I don’t have proof yet.”
He snorted softly.
“Detective Ellie strikes again.”
They pulled into her neighborhood a few minutes later.
Small houses.
Clean lawns.
Evening porch lights flickering on.
Normal., Comfortable.
They parked in front of the house he grew up in.
Ellie didn’t move right away.
“…You coming in?” she asked.
He hadn’t planned to.
He’d meant to drop her off and head back to his apartment.
But something in her tone made him reconsider.
“Yeah,” he said. “For a bit.”
The smell hit him first.
Garlic.
Onions.
Something baking.
It was Home.
His mom’s voice floated from the kitchen.
“Ellie?”
“Prom queen has arrived!” Ellie called dramatically.
Footsteps, Then his mom appeared in the hallway, dish towel over her shoulder.
“Dillion,” she said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Last-minute guest appearance,” he replied.
She smiled faintly and stepped forward to hug him.
It lingered just a second longer than usual.
“You look… healthier,” she said as she pulled back.
“I’ve been running.”
“That’s new.”
His dad appeared from the living room, remote in hand.
“Well, if it isn’t the mysterious son,” he said dryly.
“Hey, Dad.”
They shook hands instead of hugging.
That was just how they were.
“You eating?” his mom asked.
“If there’s enough.”
“There’s always enough.”
They moved to the dining table.
It felt smaller than he remembered.
Or maybe he’d just grown.
Ellie immediately launched into the dress story.
“Okay, so first store? Disaster. Second store? Historical reenactment. Third store was promising but overpriced for what it was.”
She dramatically held up the bag.
“And then this one.”
His mom’s eyes widened slightly.
“That’s beautiful,” she said gently.
His dad glanced at Dillion.
“You pay for that?”
Ellie answered before he could.
“He surprised me.”
His mom looked at him again.
“You didn’t have to spend that much.”
“It’s fine,” Dillion said.
His dad leaned back slightly in his chair.
“You still at the bookstore?” he asked casually.
There it was.
Not accusatory.
Just checking.
“Yeah.”
“Hours steady?”
“Mostly.”
His dad nodded slowly.
“That place doesn’t have much upward movement.”
Ellie rolled her eyes.
“Dad.”
“I’m just saying,” he continued calmly. “You’re twenty. It’s okay to think long term.”
Dillion stabbed a piece of chicken a little harder than necessary.
“I am thinking long term.”
“Are you?” his dad asked, not harshly. “Because from the outside, it looks like you’re comfortable.”
Comfortable.
That word stung more than it should have.
His mom stepped in gently.
“Your father just wants to make sure you’re not settling.”
“I’m not,” Dillion replied.
They didn’t see the Arena.
The guild.
The Depths.
The 100,000 credits sitting untouched in his account.
They saw:
Bookstore shifts.
Used sedan.
Small apartment.
Ellie glanced between them.
“You should’ve seen him today,” she said suddenly.
Both parents looked at her.
“What do you mean?” his mom asked.
“He’s different,” Ellie said. “More… confident.”
Dillion shot her a warning look.
She ignored it.
“He doesn’t mope anymore.”
His dad raised an eyebrow.
“Is that so?”
Dillion leaned back in his chair slightly.
“I’ve just been working on myself.”
His mom smiled softly.
“That’s good.”
His dad studied him for a second longer.
“You look stronger,” he admitted. “Been hitting the gym?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s something.”
The conversation drifted after that — school gossip, work stories, neighborhood updates.
Normal things.
But underneath it all, Dillion felt the gap.
They weren’t disappointed in him.
They were disappointed for him.
They thought he was stuck.
And he couldn’t tell them he wasn’t.
Not yet.
Dillion stood at the front door, slipping his shoes back on.
His mom hugged him again.
“Come by more often.”
“I will.”
His dad gave him a firm nod.
“Whatever you’re working toward,” he said quietly, “just make sure it’s real.”
Dillion met his eyes.
“It is.”
He stepped out into the evening air.
Ellie followed him onto the porch.
“You’re not just working at a bookstore,” she said quietly.
He didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she added. “But don’t let them make you feel small.”
He smiled faintly.
“I won’t.”
She hugged him quickly.
“Drive safe, Water Gun.”
He groaned.
“Stop.”
She laughed and went back inside.
Dillion walked to his car slowly.
The house lights glowed warm behind him.
Inside that house, he was still:
The quiet son.
The underachiever.
The safe one.
In Sora, he was something else entirely.
And the worst part?
He didn’t know which one was becoming more real.
Dillion didn’t stay long after that.
The drive back to his apartment was quiet.
Streetlights flickered on as he crossed back into his part of the city — smaller buildings, tighter parking spaces, the hum of traffic constant but distant.
He climbed the stairs to his apartment slowly, keys jangling softly in his hand.
Inside, everything was still.
No guild chatter.
No Depth pressure.
No family expectations.
Just his couch.
His small kitchen.
His bed.
He dropped his keys on the counter and sat on the edge of his mattress for a moment, staring at the wall.
It had been a long day.
Dress shopping.
Dinner.
Jerry.
He lay back without bothering to change.
Dillion didn’t remember fully falling asleep.
One minute he’d been staring at the ceiling.
The next
His phone was vibrating against the nightstand.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He groaned and rolled onto his side, eyes still closed, hand fumbling until he found it.
He answered without looking.
“…Ellie,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep. “We can’t go shopping today.”
A small pause.
Then
“Oh, I certainly hope not, Mr Rodgers"
He cracked one eye open.
“…What?”
” the voice continued smoothly, “this is Isla Moreno.”
His eyes opened fully now.
“…Isla?”
“Your Eden Representative.”
He pushed himself upright, rubbing his face.
“What time is it?”
“Ten thirty-two.” She Said
He glanced at the screen.
10:32 AM.
“You have a one o’clock interview scheduled today,” she continued calmly.
He blinked. “A what?”
“A one-on-one interview with 'SNN' Sora News Network.”
He leaned back against the headboard.
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“You didn’t decline it either,” she replied smoothly. “And it was strongly recommended.”
“By who?”
“Eden Global.”
He exhaled slowly.
“They’re calling it an exclusive sit-down with the God Slayer.”
He shut his eyes again briefly.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But that is the headline.”
“And Water Gun stays, I’m guessing.” Dillion dragged a hand down his face.
“Yep of course it does.”
“You will describe Sobek as a high-tier god encounter,” she continued. “Emphasize preparation, strategy, and please Avoid speculation of Sobek Being sentient.”
“And what time is this happening?”
“The car will arrive and pick us up at eleven sharp.”
He frowned.“......Us?”
There was the faintest pause.
Before she could answer
The doorbell rang.
Dillion froze. “…Hold on.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared toward the front door of his apartment.
The doorbell rang again.
He slowly brought the phone back up.
“…Isla.”
“Yes?”
“…You’re at my door, aren’t you.”
“Yes.”
He blinked.
“You said the car would pick us up.”
“And it will,” she replied calmly. “But I wanted to ensure you were awake.”
He stared at the door in disbelief.
“You didn’t think I’d wake up?”
“You answered the phone thinking I was your sister.”
“That’s not evidence.”
“It is.”
He swung his legs off the bed.
“You’re serious aren't you.”
“I prefer efficient.”
The doorbell chimed again.
“Please open the door,” she said. “You have twenty-five minutes.”
He stood, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
He walked to the door and unlocked it.
When he opened it Isla stood there in a tailored navy suit, tablet tucked under her arm, expression composed and mildly amused.
She glanced at him once.
“You look awake now.”
“You ambushed me.”
“I was just making sure you were on time.”
Dillion steps aside as he holds the door open. “Well if I was told ahead of time I would have set an alarm.”
She stepped inside without hesitation.
“Shower,” she said, already scanning the small apartment. “Something fitted. Neutral tones. more organized than she expected .”
He shut the door behind her.
“You really didn’t trust me to wake up.”
“I trust you in the arena,” she replied. “I do not trust you with alarm clocks.”
He stared at her for a moment.
Then shook his head and headed toward the bathroom.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re on the clock,” she replied.
He paused halfway down the hall.
“Isla.”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever sleep?”
She smiled faintly. “Efficiently.”
He muttered something under his breath and disappeared into the bathroom.
Isla walked calmly toward the small living area and set her tablet on the counter, already pulling up his briefing notes.
On screen, his name flashed:
DILLION “WATER GUN” RODGERS
GOD SLAYER
She adjusted the brightness on her tablet, She may have also helped herself to his favorite snacks he had been saving for later.
By the time he came back out
The shower shut off a few minutes later.
Isla was seated at the small kitchen counter, tablet open, reviewing the SNN briefing packet while eating his snacks.
She heard the bathroom door open behind her.
“Okay,” Dillion called out casually, still toweling his hair dry, “what exactly am I supposed to wear”
She turned.
And paused.
Dillion had stepped out of the bathroom in sweatpants, barefoot, still slightly damp from the shower.
No shirt.
Lean muscle defined across his shoulders and arms and body. Not bulky just earned. Weeks of running. Months of gym sessions. Quiet consistency.
For half a second, Isla forgot what she was about to say.
He didn’t notice at first. He was still rubbing the towel over his hair.
"Hey are those my snacks!"
Her eyes flicked up to his face.
Professional,Composed while eating his snacks.
She cleared her throat.
“You’ve been training.”
He blinked.
“…Yeah?”
“It shows.”
He looked down at himself briefly, then back at her.
“Oh. I guess i have gained some muscle?”
There was something almost innocent about the way he said it.
"Before I started going to Sora, I spent my time on auto pilot. I never played any sports I just read books I even got a job at my favorite book store"
“I’ve been working out nonstop the last few months,” he continued casually. “In Sora your body’s boosted by skills, but I still needed to get my body IRL in shape if I wanted to keep up with the system.”
She recovered fully now.
“That was a smart decision.”
He nodded once, then gestured vaguely toward his closet.
“So?” he asked. “Button-up? Jacket? Something neutral what do I need to wear?'
Isla closed her tablet.
“Nothing.”
He froze.
“…What?”
She stood smoothly.
“Nothing from here,” she clarified. “The Eden Center has a full media wing. Stylists. Grooming. Wardrobe. You’ll be fitted there.”
He stared at her.“Stylists?”
“Yes.”
“Like… professional ones?”
“Yes.”
He looked mildly alarmed.
“I don’t need contouring.”
She almost smiled. “It’s lighting correction, not theater.”
He glanced down at himself again.
“So I just… show up?”
“Shower. Clean clothes. Minimal branding. They’ll handle the rest.”
He walked toward his bedroom, grabbing a fitted dark shirt from a drawer.
“You could’ve led with that,” he muttered as he pulled it over his head.
“The show was worth it” she replied evenly.
He stopped mid-motion.
“…What?”
She turned away before he could read her expression.
"We leave in ten.”
He stepped into the living area again, now dressed in a clean fitted charcoal shirt, dark jeans and glasses on.
He grabbed a hat from the counter.
“Lose the hat.”
He paused.
“…Why?”
“You’re not hiding today.”
He hesitated.
Then set it back down.
She nodded once in approval.“Good.”
He grabbed his phone and keys.
“Ready?”Isla picked up her tablet and headed for the door.
“Can't be late for big show.”
The sedan door shut softly behind them.
Dillion settled into the leather seat, adjusting slightly as the car pulled away from the curb. Isla sat beside him this time, tablet already open, stylus in hand.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The sedan moved smoothly through mid-morning traffic.
“All right,” she said calmly. “Let’s structure this.”
Dillion shifted slightly in his seat.
“They’re going to build this as a solo spotlight,” she continued. “Not a guild feature.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Cleaner narrative,” she replied. “One name. One face. One moment.”
He understood what that meant.
“No Stark?” he asked.
“No, NPC's aren't viewed as a factor in your engagement with Sobek.”
The answer was immediate.
“They won’t mention him,” she clarified. “And you won’t either.”
He turned to look at her.
“He was there.”
“Yes.”
“He held the field.”
“Yes.”
“And we’re just pretending that didn’t happen?”
She didn’t look defensive. She didn’t look cold.
She looked strategic.
“They’re framing it as a solo endurance clear,” she said. “Your adaptation. Your positioning. Your final strike.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“It is what the audience saw.”
He leaned back slowly. “They cut him out.”
“They adjusted angles,” she corrected.
He stared at her.
“That’s the same thing.”
She didn’t argue.
“Listen carefully,” she said instead. “This is not about erasing Stark. It’s about stabilizing your image.”
“How does cutting him out stabilize anything?”
“Because shared credit creates dependency,” she replied. “Dependency weakens narrative momentum.”
He was quiet.
She continued.
“If the public believes you required intervention from a higher-tier ally, your ceiling lowers.”
“I'm not sure that's how it works.”
“That is exactly how perception works.”
The car slowed at a light.
She turned the tablet slightly toward him.
A mock SNN headline glowed on screen:
WATER GUN RODGERS
THE SOLO GOD SLAYER
He felt something twist in his stomach.
“I didn’t solo it.”
“You landed the final strike,” she said.
“That’s not the same thing.”
She met his eyes calmly.
“It is to viewers.”
Silence as she swiped to the interview outline.
“They will begin with your background,” she said. “Bookstore. Late start. Underdog angle.”
“That part’s fine.”
“Then they’ll transition to the Aquaduct. You will describe the encounter as overwhelming, chaotic, and strategic.”
“And if they ask whether I had help?”
“They won’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She paused.
“If they ask whether you had help,” she said carefully, “you will say that every encounter in Sora involves support from the world itself.”
He blinked.
“That’s vague.”
“That’s intentional.”
He watched her closely.
“You’re not comfortable with this,” she observed.
“I don’t like being handed credit that isn’t mine.”
“You’re not being handed anything,” she replied. “You earned that strike.”
He didn’t argue, but he didn’t agree either.
“They will not ask about Stark,” she continued. “They will not ask about external intervention. They will not suggest irregular behavior.”
“Because?”
“Because Eden has structured the interview.”
That was the most honest sentence she’d said so far.
The car turned into the media district.
Billboards lit up across glass buildings.
Water exploded across massive digital screens.
His face frozen mid-motion.
WATER GUN RODGERS
“I hate that name,” he muttered.
“They control the timing,” she replied.
He looked at her again.
"This all happened just a few days ago"
“And if I correct them?”
She held his gaze.
“You won’t.”
That wasn’t threatening.It was confident.
He exhaled slowly.
“They’re trying to make this simple.”
“And it isn’t.”
She didn’t respond to that.
Instead
“One more thing,” she said. “When they ask what it felt like, do not say it felt alive.”
He looked at her sharply.
“I didn’t say I would.”
“I know,” she replied calmly. “But avoid that word.”
The car came to a smooth stop outside the SNN building.
Staff were already waiting near the entrance.
Isla closed the tablet.
“You are the story today,” she said quietly.
He opened the door and stepped out.
“And stories,” she added as she joined him at his side, “only work when they’re clean.”
They walked toward the glass doors together.
Behind them, the billboard looped again.
WATER GUN RODGERS.
