I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human
Chapter 50: War Games

Chapter 50: War Games

"Hello, my children!" Seraphine beamed, lounging elegantly behind a curved desk of polished moon wood. Her voice rang with warmth and power, motherly but unmistakably divine.

Before her stood five figures: Darfin, Lucy, Tara, Adgrun, and Erot—each straight-backed, each carrying their own expectations like armor.

Lucy, meanwhile, was openly gawking.

’Damn,’ he thought.

Seraphine looked radiant today. Her silver hair curled slightly at the ends, catching the light like divine silk. Her light blue eyes glowed with an almost unnatural luster, and her violet dress hugged her figure with tailored perfection, so tightly it was practically a sin.

She caught him staring and winked.

Lucy’s heart kicked up in his chest—until it didn’t.

The moment her lashes fluttered, a cold memory splashed into him. Rain. Bloody rain. Screams. The stench of iron. The weight of bodies.

He flinched and shook his head as if trying to rattle the ghosts out of his skull.

Seraphine cocked her head slightly, bemused. "Lucy?"

He forced a grin and gave a casual shrug. "Don’t mind me. Just shaking off the voices in my head. Please, continue."

Darfin, ever the stickler, cleared his throat pointedly. "Don’t you mean, ’My Lady’?"

Lucy responded with an exaggerated bow. "By your divine grace, O radiant Ladyship, do proceed."

Darfin rolled his eyes. Tara chuckled under her breath. Adgrun remained focused, his single arm down by his side, and feet planted like a boulder. Erot blinked slowly, utterly indifferent.

Seraphine smiled indulgently, but her tone shifted as she leaned forward slightly. "I wanted to tell you first. The five of you will be the most affected by the news."

She picked up a scroll and opened it with a crisp flick. Her voice turned formal, almost ceremonial, as she read:

Goddess of Rebirth and Suffering,

"I am pleased to announce that the War Games have been scheduled for January 3rd. You are expected to arrive with your chosen champions on January 2nd. Failure to arrive on time will result in the loss of 100 planets.

The God Summit will be held on July 2nd. Absence will result in a docking of 40 planets. This year’s Games promise to be the most spectacular yet. Come ready.

— Sincerely, Hagred Zinneiros."

Lucy blinked.

’War Games? God Summit? What the hell are the War Games, and why do I already regret asking that?’

Darfin let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms. "That old coot Hagred is still hanging around."

Adgrun practically vibrated with excitement, his deep red scales catching the light as he rocked on his heels. "The War Games! Yes, yes—I would very much like to participate!"

He looked like he might explode into flame from sheer enthusiasm.

Tara offered a half-shrug, unimpressed. Erot’s expression didn’t change. Lucy suspected even if the sky fell, Erot would just watch and blink.

Lucy raised both hands in protest. "Okay, I’m sorry, but it seems like everyone here already knows what the hell is going on. Would someone be so kind as to fill me in?"

Adgrun answered immediately, his voice crackling with joy. "The War Games are incredible! It’s a giant festival where the Gods choose champions to represent them! We compete in events and earn points; best of all, it’s streamed across the galaxy! You can become famous!"

Lucy stared at him.

His eye twitched.

’It’s too early in the day for this level of enthusiasm.’

He studied Adgrun, still bouncing slightly. I’ve never seen him this excited. ’What’s his deal with being famous, anyway?’

Tara spoke. "Let me guess. You want us to be your champions?"

Seraphine clapped her hands together, thrilled. "Exactly! Well, not all of you. Each god gets only three teams, each with a captain. Darfin will be occupied with a mission during the games, leaving the four of you."

Erot finally spoke, voice slow and gravelly. "Me no want to compete. Me like... watch."

Seraphine gave a pleased nod. "Then it’s settled. Congratulations, Lucy, Adgrun, and Tara—you’ll each be captains for the War Games. Once you assemble your teams, Erot will provide you with the necessary gear and supplies."

Adgrun whooped, fist-pumping the air.

Tara gave a small smile, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.

Darfin looked faintly disappointed, his eyes briefly downcast. He wasn’t good at hiding how much he hated being benched.

Lucy was just confused.

’I just got promoted to team captain of something I still don’t understand!’

He shot his hand up like a schoolkid asking to go to the bathroom. "Question, Ladyship?"

Seraphine raised an amused brow. "Yes, Lucy?"

"While Adgrun gave a very... enthusiastic explanation, could you maybe explain it in a way that doesn’t sound like a galactic game show trailer?"

The goddess chuckled, a warm, honey-sweet sound. "Of course. The War Games are an ancient divine tradition. Each god may summon the War Game Festival once. I used my summon long ago. This time, it was Ravun who called for it."

"This will be the fourth and final Games," Seraphine continued. "Every god gets three teams of six. The teams compete in various events over several days."

She paused for just a breath, then added, "And the cost of failure is steep. The god who finishes last must give the winner 500 planets. Third place must offer 300. Even second place must surrender 200. No one walks away untouched."

Lucy’s thoughts flickered.

’Games. That doesn’t sound so bad. Also, how many plants are in a God’s possession!’

But Seraphine wasn’t finished.

"Don’t be fooled by the name. These games are far from innocent. While killing children is frowned upon due to public broadcasting, death is still a reality. People die every festival. And the children of the other gods will try to kill you, especially Ravun’s."

Lucy felt something cold slither down his spine.

’Fantastic. Another psychotic divine death match. And I just had to jinx it by hoping for fun and games. You’re a genius, Lucy.’

Then another thought sparked behind his eyes—cold, bright, sharp.

’Still... this could be the perfect chance to grow stronger. If I’m going to kill gods, I’ll need every edge I can get.’

"Alright, I’ll compete," Lucy muttered, dry as bone.

Like he had a choice.

Seraphine’s smile softened into something almost maternal. "Thank you, Lucy. Your service means more than you know."

There was a flicker in her gaze—pride, yes, but also something heavier. Like she already foresaw the blood yet to be spilled.

She rose from her chair, the room dimming slightly as her divine presence stirred. Her voice resonated with finality as she addressed them all:

"I’ll return with more information from the summit tomorrow. You have six months to choose your teams and prepare. Use that time wisely."

Her eyes swept across her chosen. Her warriors. Her children.

"You are dismissed."

As the others turned to leave, Lucy lingered a moment longer, staring at the spot where Seraphine had stood. The title of "captain" echoed in his mind like a joke he didn’t quite get. Was this a promotion... or a countdown to his death?