The mischievous gamer God

Tet returned to Bobby's house and flopped dramatically back down on the couch beside Castiel, limbs spread like a starfish.

"What'd I miss?" he asked, lazily tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Castiel turned his gaze to Tet, face unreadable but voice tinged with his usual calm seriousness. "You missed over half the game."

Tet blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Yes," Castiel replied, tilting his head slightly. "Sam defeated the giant Marshmallow Man. Then he and the Ghostbusters discovered a connection between some ancient evil and the woman they rescued from the giant marshmallow. After that, they dealt with a haunted library and a museum. They also explored the ghost realm."

Tet stared blankly, mouth slightly open. "I thought I was only gone for a few hours…"

He turned to glance at the clock. Then the date. His eyes widened, and he let out a long yawn that stretched his whole body.

"Oh no," he muttered, "I've been gone for days." He waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind. Sorry, Castiel. Anyway, let's watch."

Their attention turned back to the screen just as Sam was seen exiting the shared bedroom of the Ghostbusters, stepping quietly into the main room. Egon was already there, completely absorbed in whatever scientific project he was tinkering with—wires, blinking lights, and mysterious readings strewn across the workbench.

Sam walked over and said with mild disbelief, "Damn, Egon. Do you ever sleep?"

Egon didn't look up from his work. "I sleep an average of fourteen minutes a day," he said matter-of-factly. "It's an experiment I'm conducting. Gives me more time to get things done."

Sam, a little taken aback, just shook his head with a faint chuckle. He moved to the kitchen and brewed two cups of coffee, then returned to the table and slid one across to Egon.

Egon took the mug gratefully, sipped, and then fixed his sharp, analytical eyes on Sam. "So, Sam… why do you need to defeat the Devil?"

Sam paused mid-sip, brow furrowing. "…What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb," Egon said flatly, placing his cup on the table. "I only sleep fourteen minutes a day. And you have night terrors. I've been hearing you talk in your sleep for the past couple of weeks. You keep mentioning the apocalypse… and how you need to defeat the Devil. I think at one point you even muttered that you're supposed to be his vessel. And don't think I didn't notice the devil's trap tattoo on your shoulder."

He leaned forward slightly, voice quieter but piercing. "So tell me… what's going on?"

Just then, Ray walked into the room holding a half-eaten doughnut, pausing by the doorway with a sheepish grin.

"Yeah… I'd like to hear it too. And, uh… yes, I was totally listening in from the other room," he admitted before sliding into the chair next to Egon.

Sam hesitated, then said, "You guys wouldn't believe me."

Ray gave a dry laugh and took another bite of his doughnut. "Kid, on a regular basis we fight ghosts and all manner of weird-ass monstrosities while wearing nuclear-powered proton packs that—if misused—could blow us up along with a two-mile radius of the city."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Hit us with your story. We won't laugh."

Sam exhaled slowly and looked between them, the burden clearly weighing heavy on his shoulders. Then he spoke. He told them everything—how he was from another dimension where the forces of Heaven and Hell were on the brink of war, about the impending apocalypse, and how he had to find a way to stop Lucifer.

When he finished, Ray leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Ah. That makes sense."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What does?"

Ray pointed at him. "When you first saw us, you looked at us like you knew us—but we'd never met you before. So… what are we in your world? Still Ghost hunters?"

Sam scratched the back of his neck. "Not exactly."

Ray groaned. "We're actors who play Ghost hunters, aren't we?"

Sam winced and nodded. "Yeah…"

"Dammit…" Ray muttered, rubbing his temples. "Oh well."

Egon cleared his throat. "That aside… Tell me everything you know. Have you figured out his weakness? What can hurt him? Is there any way to trap him?"

Sam nodded slowly. "So far, the only thing we know that can hurt him is angel-based weaponry. And Enochian wards can at least banish him temporarily."

Egon tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "The Devil's an archangel, so it would make sense that angelic weaponry could injure him. Without a sample, I can't replicate the material properties, but…"

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Wait. You said you're supposed to be his vessel, right?"

Sam nodded, cautious. "Yeah…"

"That implies he doesn't necessarily have a physical form. At least not on the earthly plane," Egon continued, gears clearly turning in his head. "And if that's the case… all right. I've got an idea."

He stood up abruptly and paced a few steps. "Give me a few days, Sam. I should be able to work something out. But for now, get your focus back. We still need you to help us finish the current issue we're facing."

He turned back, meeting Sam's eyes with surprising earnestness. "After that, I promise—Ray and I will dedicate all of our efforts to helping you."

Sam's expression softened with genuine gratitude. "I really appreciate that. Thank you."

Ray grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ah, don't worry about it, kid. You'd do the same for us."

Outside the game, Tet looked genuinely stunned, eyebrows raised as his eyes tracked the screen.

"Huh… Wow," he muttered, blinking in awe. "Note to self—be way more careful when making genius characters in the future."

He turned toward Castiel, who sat quietly watching, his expression as stoic as ever, though his eyes held the faintest glint of concern.

Tet sighed and stood, brushing nonexistent dust off his robes. "Well, he's about done. I need to go take care of some things again."

His tone softened as he looked at Castiel. "I'm sorry I'm leaving so soon, Cass. I just wanted to check in."

He smiled, genuinely warm for a moment.

"But I'll be back for Sam's finale, that's a guarantee. I shouldn't be gone more than a day."

He gave Castiel a two-finger salute and a mischievous wink. "See you soon."

And with that, he vanished in a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors, leaving behind only a faint shimmer in the air.

Tet reappeared once more in the void, floating effortlessly in the endless abyss of shifting stars and collapsing dimensions. His gaze sharpened, locking on to the world he desired.

Without hesitation, he descended—cracking open the barrier of the godly domain like glass under pressure. Light bled through the cracks as he levitated downward with the grace of a sovereign, his arms folded, his golden eyes playful.

He landed smoothly on the shining floor of divine judgment and stood before two figures—one made of pure, radiant light, the other a coiling mass of shadow and void. Both bore horns upon their heads, regal and ancient.

These were the Brothers Grimm—the God of Light and the God of Darkness, twin deities of Remnant.

The God of Darkness stepped forward first, sneering with disdain.

"What is this insolence?" he growled, his voice echoing like thunder from a dying star. "How dare you come where you're not invited, god from a foreign world?"

The God of Light's tone was more composed, yet laced with disapproval. "Yes. It is quite rude to trespass in someone else's domain."

Tet yawned exaggeratedly, stretching his arms overhead. "Yeah, yeah… Look, I'm just going to cut to the chase."

He pointed to himself with a thumb. "I'm Tet. God of Games. Nice to meet you."

He floated lazily in the air, cross-legged and smirking.

"And I'm here to play a game with you. If I win—I get Remnant."

The God of Darkness snarled, stepping forward. "How dare—"

But before he could finish, Tet's entire demeanor shifted.

In an instant, the playful glint in his eyes was replaced with a terrifying, ancient force. A crushing aura of divine power spilled out from him like a tidal wave. Space around him cracked.

"Participation is mandatory," Tet said coldly.

"You cannot refuse. If you do… I'll just kill you and take Remnant anyway."

His voice became sharper, more threatening with each word.

"I'm being nice by giving you an opportunity—not only to keep your world… but to acquire one of equal size if you win."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Now shut up and play."

The Brothers recoiled slightly. For the first time in countless eons, they felt fear.

The God of Light, clearly shaken, looked to his brother and then nodded slowly. "What… what are the terms of this game?"

Tet instantly reverted back to his carefree demeanor, floating higher with a grin.

"Simple. It's going to be a war."

He extended his arm and conjured a glowing sigil in the air.

"Your constructs versus mine. Your Grimm… versus my Yautja. Each side will have a commander. If the commander falls, you lose."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you accept these terms?"

The Brothers exchanged a brief, wary glance, then nodded in unison.

Tet clapped his hands with a childlike gleam in his eyes. "Good! Now raise your hands and repeat after me—Aschente."

The Brothers, confused but compelled, raised their hands and echoed, "Aschente."

The moment they spoke the word, they felt it—a powerful binding force surging into their very souls. The magic coiled around them like chains of fate.

They could not run. They had to play. The game had begun.

Tet smirked with satisfaction and waved his hand. Reality twisted.

Before them, a massive battlefield sprang into existence.

On one side, a wide open plain stretched out—dotted with rocky outcroppings and scattered bushes. This became the territory of the Brothers, and within moments, it filled with monstrous Grimm—from the nimble Beowulves to towering Nevermores, savage Ursa, and chittering Death Stalkers.

At the rear loomed an enormous, regal Grimm dragon, its scales pulsing with black miasma, its wings casting a dark shadow over the field.

The God of Darkness let out a deep, proud laugh. "There's no way we'll lose—not with this many on our side!"

With a snap of his fingers, he commanded the army forward—directing them into the thick, mysterious forest that lay on the opposite side of the battlefield.

But the God of Light furrowed his brow, watching the trees sway ominously. "Don't you think that's too hasty, brother? We don't even know what's inside those woods."

The God of Darkness dismissed the concern with a scoff. "I'm sure it's fine. What did he call them? Yautja? That doesn't sound very terrifying. I'm sure they're weak."

However, moments after the Grimm breached the treeline, distant echoes of snarling, slashing, and unnatural shrieks filled the air.

The ground shook. Trees cracked. And the unmistakable sound of the first wave being slaughtered echoed across the plains.

The God of Darkness took a step forward, scowling. "What's going on? What killed them?"

He tried to peer through the trees, but no matter how hard he looked… he could see nothing. No movement. No enemy. Just flickers of shape and heat—gone as soon as he blinked.

He gritted his teeth.

"What… did he create… to fight us? To be able to kill my Grimm so easily?"

At the far end of the battlefield, nestled within the deepest part of the forest, stood a regal throne crafted entirely from bone, ornately adorned with the skulls of great beasts and the remnants of previous hunts. Sitting upon it was a towering Yautja, his dreadlocks swaying slightly as he meticulously sharpened his composite spear, the blade shimmering with an eerie, alien gleam.

Unlike the rest of his brethren, who kept themselves cloaked in near-perfect invisibility, he alone remained visible—his armor gleaming dully beneath the shadows of the trees. This Yautja, the commander, craved the hunt. It was in his blood, in his spirit. Yet due to the rules of the engagement, he was not allowed to strike until the prey came to him.

So he waited.

Patient. Focused. Deadly.

He could hear, as the Brother Gods could, the unmistakable sounds of the first Grimm wave being torn apart—snarls turning to whimpers, howls to silence. His predator instincts flared. He tapped a command into the bracer on his wrist, issuing a new set of silent orders through the alien tech to his warriors. Pull back—draw the Grimm deeper into the forest, into home terrain.

At the same time, he sent a detached squad to flank the enemy from behind.

The Grimm were at a large disadvantage. Though fierce and numerous, they were nothing more than instinctual monstrosities—devoid of thought, driven only by malice. They had no intelligence, no ability to adapt or strategize. They were entirely reliant on the God of Darkness for direction.

Even their so-called commander—a massive, draconic Grimm—was simply a brute beast, powerful but mindless.

The Yautja warriors advanced, their numbers few but disciplined. Camouflaged and coordinated, they erupted from the tree line like whispers of death—invisible, precise, and lethal. Each one carried an array of tools and weapons—plasma casters, wrist blades, and disc-like chakrams—but it was their cunning and battle acumen that made them so terrifying.

They struck hard and fast, carving through the Grimm with expert precision. They laid traps, used the terrain, adapted to every movement.

But eventually, the sheer numbers of the Grimm began to wear down the hunters. One Yautja was swarmed—he let out a brief roar before triggering the self-destruct sequence on his wrist-mounted bomb. A blazing white light erupted from his body, vaporizing hundreds of Grimm in the blast.

More followed. A few more Yautja fell—but each death was met with explosions that took the creatures of darkness with them.

The Grimm army thinned. Their howls filled the trees as more Yautja burst from the forest, replacing their fallen brethren and continuing the push. Eventually, only one Grimm remained.

The commander.

The Brothers of Light and Darkness stood in disbelief. Their monstrous army, slaughtered by mere dozens of warriors. Still, they had hope.

Surely the Yautja would swarm the Grimm commander and end it quickly.

But… they didn't.

Instead, the hunters formed two long, orderly lines, facing each other in silent reverence. They raised their arms over their chests in the traditional salute of their kind and stood still.

Respectfully.

From the shadows of the tree line, the Yautja Commander emerged.

He was massive—even among his own kind—standing over eight feet tall, his body thick with muscle and layered with ancient ceremonial armor, etched with the trophies of a hundred worlds. His helmet gleamed with burnished bronze, and his long dreadlocks swayed as he strode forward with the grace of a seasoned predator.

He passed between his kin, their unflinching gazes watching in reverence, and approached the titanic Grimm dragon—a beast of claw, fang, and fire.

The Gods watched with bated breath.

The commander did not flinch. He launched himself toward the dragon with explosive speed, veering only slightly to avoid a jet of flame that scorched the earth behind him.

Mid-sprint, he reached for his belt and retrieved a bolo—three weighted orbs connected by a thin, high-tension cable of Yautja design. With a swift motion, he spun it overhead and hurled it at the dragon's mouth. It snapped tight around the creature's jaws, sealing its maw shut with a crack of force.

He resumed his charge.

But the dragon, enraged, swung its massive tail. The impact sent the commander hurtling into a boulder with a dull thud. He groaned, rising slowly, blood trickling from beneath his mask.

The dragon tore at the bolo, managing to loosen it—but the commander was already moving.

The beast tried to take flight.

Too late.

The Yautja commander hurled several throwing knives, each embedded with small sonic detonators. They pierced the dragon's wing membrane, shredding it, grounding the beast in a crashing thud.

The dragon roared and scrambled backward, but the commander was already climbing—scaling its obsidian-black body with spear in hand.

The dragon freed its jaw and turned its head, trying to bathe its foe in fire—

—but the Yautja was too fast.

With a primal cry, he drove his spear through the roof of the dragon's mouth, impaling its brain. The beast's eyes widened, then rolled back. Its body convulsed once… twice…

And then it collapsed.

Dead.

The commander stood atop its skull, raising his arms to the heavens and releasing a thunderous roar of triumph. The forest echoed his cry, the sound of a predator whose hunt had ended in victory. His bloodlust was sated.

Outside the battlefield, the Brothers stood silent, their divine forms rigid with shock.

They had lost.

Tet approached, arms crossed, floating just above the earth with his usual smirk dancing on his lips.

"I think we all saw that coming," he said smugly.

The God of Darkness pointed a trembling finger at Tet, voice full of fury and disbelief.

"What are those things?!"

Tet grinned wider. "Those are the Yautja—more commonly known as the Predators."

He twirled a finger in the air as he explained.

"They're a race of hunters that roam the galaxy searching for new and dangerous creatures to hunt. They live for it. It's in their nature, their culture. This… this was sport to them."

The Brother Gods stared at him, stunned.

"You stacked the deck in your favor," the God of Light finally said, trying to remain composed. "There was no way for us to win from the start."

Tet waved a hand lazily. "That's not true. Both sides had equal chances of winning."

He floated in a slow circle around them.

"But your Grimm—while powerful—lacked intelligence. Without proper commanders or even basic strategic thought, they were too weak to face enemies who could think."

He shrugged. "Honestly, the only reason the people of Remnant even have trouble with them is because there's an infinite number of Grimm, and they've got the Queen backing them up."

Tet's eyes gleamed. "If it weren't for that, they would've probably wiped them out a long time ago."

He folded his arms again.

"Your Grimm did have an advantage though: superior numbers. If you had used that more effectively, you might've won. But you didn't."

He smirked.

"Now it's time to pay."

Grumbling under their breath, the Brother Gods produced a red chess piece, glowing faintly. Carved into it was the world of Remnant.

Tet shook his head and said. "The agreement was for the world of Remnant, not your entire universe. So I'll only be taking Remnant."

He opened his palm, and a golden globe formed—an exact miniature replica of the planet.

He tucked it neatly into the folds of his robes.

As he did, the real Remnant vanished from the Brother Gods' universe—gone without a trace.

The Brothers stared in disbelief.

"You only wanted our… failed experiment?" the God of Darkness asked. "We thought you meant our whole universe."

Tet gave a cheeky smile. "I specifically specified the world of Remnant. Not the universe in which it exists."

He gave a mock bow.

"Good day to you gentlemen."

And with that, he disappeared in his usual kaleidoscope of colors, leaving the gods stunned in silence.

Reappearing in his own realm, Tet approached Earth's terminal—a holographic model of the solar system spinning gently before him.

He studied it for a moment, then reached down and casually plucked Mars out of its orbit.

He inspected it with mild curiosity.

"Eh… I might find a use for this one day."

He slipped it into storage.

Then, where Mars once hovered, he placed Remnant—fitting it perfectly into the solar system's empty niche. He cast several spells to stabilize the planet's atmosphere, adjust gravitational flow, and ensure that Remnant could continue supporting life without suffering the problems Mars once had.

He looked at it fondly.

Then he smirked.

"I wonder how Earth and Remnant will react when they realize… they're not alone in the universe anymore."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Who knows? Maybe I'll grab a few more planets and make this system a little more interesting."

He pulled out a sleek divine cell phone and sent out a group text to his fellow gods:

> Got a new planet. Come bless it when you have a chance.

Almost immediately, replies began pouring in.

The first was from Hestia:

> Yay! Can't wait! 😊

The second came from Apollo:

> You got it, boss man. ttyl 😎

The third from Hermes:

> I already did.

Tet glanced up to see one of Hermes' speed clones vanishing in a blur over the horizon.

He sighed, amused.

The fourth message was from Artemis:

> On a hunt. I'll get to it later.

And finally, one from Hades:

> Persephone and I are in Paris. We'll do it when we get back. Thanks for keeping us in the loop.

Tet chuckled and looked up from his phone.

"They're really laid-back. Do I need to start putting my foot down more…?"

He tapped his chin again.

"Oh well. I'll figure that out later."

With that, Tet teleported to Remnant, the new gem of his cosmic collection.