The sky was a clouded in poisonous gas, making it a dirty combination of red, brown, yellow, and orange. The sun could just barely be seen through the toxic clouds above. The ground, which had once supported a bustling urban city, was now completely comprised of ash and glass. Here or there, the remains of a skyscraper or tree could be seen, but for the most part, everything had been obliterated.

Utop a hill sat four graves, whose markers were comprised of scavenged carbonized wood. On each marker, a three-digit number was carved. The numbers read 057, 274, 178, and 336. Kneeling in front of the graves was the only remaining living thing on the entire planet.

It took the appearance of an abnormally tall man wearing a pitch-black suit with grey pinstripes. After a few moments, he stood up, straightening his red tie, which sat atop a dark-blue dress shirt, and then brushed the golden pin on his chest with the tip of his pitch-black hand.

It doesn't make sense…

Mars cracked and exploded like a watermelon getting hit by a hammer. Red-hot chunks of the planet flew into space, and amid those chunks, two figures flew through the void.

The man looked up at the barren wasteland in front of him with his two glowing white eyes, of which were the only features on his face, which had skin that seemed to reject all traces of light. He then looked to the final grave, which read: 336

336… That's who I am… Or, is it?

336 turned to glare at the bloody battlefield behind him. Alien bodies were piled up for miles, staining the ground purple. Vehicles and ships dotted the landscape as well, all of them grounded, on fire, and beaten up beyond repair.

No. That's definitely who I am.

336 fell through the atmosphere, a red cone forming around him. The cloudy sky opened up, and he crashed into a meadow, causing dirt and birds to fly into the air as a crater was formed. 336, who had landed on his stomach, shakily tried to get up. He stopped, however, when he saw what was leaking from his forehead.

White liquid. Glowing white liquid. What the hell?!

336 didn't have long to contemplate, however, has the sky opened up again, and his face was shoved into the dirt as his opponent landed on him. 336 managed to turn his head to look at their face.

The man had short dark-brown hair and a well trimmed beard. His eyebrows were long and rectangular, and his face had a few age-lines in it. The only thing that really made him stand apart from another average person was his glowing white eyes, which were almost identical to 336's.

"You really came out of the left field, didn't you?" The man said, his voice full of borderline disgust. "You don't even know what you are, or what you can do, but you still managed to mess up my plans in record time."

Get… Off… 336 managed to mutter, speaking telepathically.

"You're to injured to get up, and your body isn't organic anymore. Willpower won't help you at all… ehhh… 336, was it?" The man asked, shaking his head. "You have a name. No need to use numbers."

That number… Is the only thing I have left… Yahweh.

336 held up his hand and watched as skin started slowly appearing over it. Feeling suddenly came back in his hand. He could feel the air, hot and devoid of moisture. The skin spread up his arm, throughout his entire body, and eventually, his head. As his nose came back, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the now terrible smell of the gas rich atmosphere. Human eyes formed over his glowing white ones, and immediately teared up and stung. The only thing pleasant about this was that he could feel the breeze running between the short stubbs on his buzz-cut hair.

336 took a deep breath, despite no longer having lungs, and washed the pain the feelings from his body. He was no longer an organic being, and didn't need to abide by the rules of one.

But that was only physically.

"Then let me make one thing clear." Yahweh said. "This universe is bigger than you know, and it's against us. There used to be trillions of us, but now the Gods are hunting us, and our numbers might not even be over a hundred anymore. So it doesn't matter that your team is dead. It doesn't matter how you feel. It doesn't matter what you want. The only thing that matters is that we survive. And you are currently far from able to do that."

336 felt the pressure on his back lift, and he turned over to face Yahweh. Son of a bitch… Don't lecture me on what matters! I would gladly die if it meant I took you with me! 336 tried to lunge forward, but ultimately was only able to sit up before falling back down.

Yahweh shook his head, then tossed something at 336, which clattered to the ground next to him. It was a golden short-sword, its hilt decorated with ruby's and an intricate design of a Dragon, and the handle a black rubber. "If that is the only thing you'll think about, then have this. Not only will you need it to survive, but it's one of the few things that can kill a Demigod like me." Yahweh then turned, and started to walk away.

I don't want your damn magic sword! I'll to it's job with my bare hands you fuck! Get back here! GET THE FUCK BACK HERE! 336 screamed.

Yahweh stopped. His head looked down as if he were sad, before turning back to 336. "Keep moving. Stay hidden. Or he will find you." Yahweh then turned back and held his hand out, a glowing white portal suddenly tearing its way through the air and becoming human-sized. Yahweh disappeared into it.

336 yanked the golden sword from the ground next to him.

"I have avenged my people." He said, reaching out with his hand. "Now I will find you, and avenge my family."

He reached out with his free hand. He could feel the universe at his fingertips. Every dimension, the countless possibilities rolled between them, and everything in between was now available to him. It would take time. Perhaps hundreds, thousands, or even millions of years, but he would find Yahweh, and he would kill him.

The portal opened, and 336 stepped through.