THE GOD OF MISFORTUNE
Chapter 2: (CH1)The 1,325th Time’s the Charm

Chapter 2: (CH1)The 1,325th Time’s the Charm

Luis Mendoza was having that kind of day. Not just "bad luck" bad, but the kind where you start thinking maybe—just maybe—the universe actually hates your guts. Like, personally.

First, the alarm didn’t go off. He was late. Again. Financial Accounting midterm. Awesome. He could already imagine Professor Altavera’s signature disappointed sigh. That sigh alone was worse than an F.

Then—because the universe wasn’t done being a jerk—he tripped on literally nothing while sprinting to school and face-planted into a puddle that smelled like expired tuna. Actual expired tuna. It tasted like pennies and regret.

And now? Bike’s gone. Vanished. Third time this month. He was sure he’d locked it properly this time. Probably cursed at this point.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, tugging his soaked hoodie tighter around him as cold drizzle kept stabbing at his neck. "At this point, I should just accept that life’s got beef with me."

And then—A voice. Loud. Way too loud."OH COME ON, NOT AGAIN!"

Luis blinked. That... wasn’t him. That was not him.

The air in front of him bent—like heat ripples off asphalt—and then shaped itself into what looked like a guy who’d lost a fight with destiny and a washing machine. Robes that looked like laundry from a cursed thrift store. Hair a mess. Face? Exhausted. Just deeply, soul-level tired.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," the guy said, rubbing his temples. "Another one? Really? Can’t I get one decent host?"

Luis stared. Brain: buffering. "Uh... who are you?"

"Zyx. God of Misfortune. You’re number 1,325." He said it like a barista calling out another espresso order.

Luis blinked again. "Your... what?"

"Host. Yeah, yeah. Let’s skip the freaking-out part. I’ve given this spiel so many times I could do it in my sleep." He snapped his fingers.

A weird glowing number popped into the air—looked like a floating LED scoreboard.

HOSTS ASSIGNED: 1,324HOSTS DECEASED: 1,324CURRENT STREAK: 0 WINS

Luis’s stomach? Gone. Somewhere near his knees. "Wait—all of them died?"

"Yep," Zyx said, with the energy of someone who just doesn’t care anymore. "Fastest died in twelve seconds. Longest lasted a month. A month. Impressive, honestly. That guy dodged a falling satellite. Until he didn’t."

Luis opened his mouth. Closed it. Then: "So I’m just... doomed?"

"Basically." Zyx gave him a thumbs up. "But hey, you’re in rare company! This is a super exclusive club."

Luis barely had time to digest that horror before the ground shook. Not a rumble—a growl. Like something huge was coming.

Out of the alley, it leapt—a six-eyed wolf thing with bones poking out of its back like spears. Foam dripping from its mouth. Way too fast. Way too real.

"Oh, sweet! A Voidfang!" Zyx grinned. "Classic tutorial monster. Love these guys."

Luis did what any normal person would do. He screamed. And ran. Except he tripped—of course.

"WHAT DO I DO?!"

Zyx shrugged. "Nothing. You’re toast anyway."

"HELP ME!"

"Fine, fine. God, you’re needy," Zyx muttered.

The monster pounced.

Then—BOOM.The fire hydrant beside Luis exploded, water blasting like a cannon. It hit the wolf-thing dead-on, flinging it into a dumpster hard enough to fold metal. It twitched once, then melted into smoke.

Luis stared, panting. That weird hot energy coursing through his veins.

"Did... did I win?"

Zyx yawned. "Tutorial level. Don’t get cocky."

Sirens started up somewhere in the city. A robotic voice echoed from above—no visible speakers, just air-sound.

"Warning: Monster incursion detected. All civilians seek shelter. Host’s good luck."

Luis’s blood went ice-cold. "Hosts... like me?"

Zyx flashed a grin that was too wide to be comforting. "Oh, buddy. You’re not just a host. You’re my host. The underdog of underdogs."

In the distance, a building crumbled.

Luis swallowed. "How bad is this gonna get?"

"Ever seen a dumpster fire in a tornado? During an earthquake?" Zyx patted his shoulder. "Worse."

And right then, Luis Mendoza—college burnout, walking disaster, and now the 1,325th host of the most unlucky god in existence—realized something:

This year?This year was going to be hell.And probably not even the fun kind.

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