The Men Who Killed God (Sinner of the Infinite Book 1)

by J Alex McCarthy

  Kevan moved fast and in a blur, his rifle flashed across the god as he leapt past him. Kevan looked behind him as the god fell dead to his knees.

  The sky lit up as lights traveled into the sky. The gods were retreating. They had finally done it.

  The city was theirs.

  Kevan walked to his commander’s remains.

  “Sorry, I let you down,” he said to them.

  And then up to the god of chaos. His eyes were still open, his anger and sadness forever frozen on his face.

  Kevan moved a hand across his eyes and closed them. “Sorry.”

  Throughout the war, Kevan had taken many lives that he’d felt were pointless. It seemed now his sins of the past were catching up to him.

  Was every god bad? Was every god deserving of death?

  He looked over his newly-acquired city. They were chanting all over the city. “Kevan! Kevan! Kevan!” He felt undeserving. His name. The leader, the savior.

  The war was almost over. Los Angeles, the city of the gods and the gateway to the heavens was next.

  Soon, everyone would account for their sins.

  Kevan heard a boom of thunder behind him and spun around.

  Svante walked toward him. “We need to talk.”

  …

  Two years after Svante bled.

  Kevan stood over a table in a room. A black eye patch covered his left eye. Behind him was a pinboard of Ifor’s hierarchy. Half of the gods were crossed out. Fifty-percent of the gods were dead.

  A map of the tower of the gods lay in front of him, the gateway to heaven. Ifor’s main headquarters.

  Soon, this war would finally be over.

  Kevan poured through the plan in his head. But he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. He had the help of the Omniscient Man for the last two years and the man had done a lot for him.

  So why didn’t he believe what he had just told him? That he was going to bring back his brother?

  It was impossible.

  To bring someone back from the dead.

  Kevan shook the unlikely promise out of his mind and stared back at the map. He didn’t have time to worry about impossibilities, just possibilities.

  He had a war to end.

  …

  August shook awake. He breathed in deeply, standing in a dark room. He could barely see in front of him.

  He had just seen the last two years of his brother’s life. It was amazing, it felt like he was actually there.

  The Omniscient Man had an awesome power. A power August was going to use to kill He himself.

  August was proud of his brother, of what he’d done, of how far he’d come. And yet, August was the same person he was two years ago. He’d just accepted how much of an asshole he was.

  He looked around but it was pitch-black. He felt around on the walls and came to an opening. A stairway leading up to a light-lined door.

  The Omniscient Man had said that his brother would be past that door. August was afraid of what his brother had become. A man. A true warrior and leader. How could he accept August as he was?

  Yet, despite his insecurities, August slowly walked up the stairs; the steps creaked with each of his footsteps.

  He reached the door and pushed it open as a blinding light came from it.

  As the light faded, he saw his brother, a man who had grown decades wiser in just two years’ time. Bent over a map.

  August was finally home.

  “Kevan.”

  Kevan looked up at him.

  August was finally alive again.

  16

  Outsider

  The room Kevan stood in was poorly-lit. On a table in front of him was a map of the Tower of Ifor. Red and blue marks covered the sheet.

  He sighed and rested his hands on the table.

  He needed to concentrate. This was it. Tomorrow, he and the rebels would finally attempt to take down the gods once and for all.

  He checked his watch. It was half-past five.

  The time didn’t matter to him at the moment, neither did the plan.

  The nerves that were wracking his mind weren’t from the near-impossible things he was going to attempt to do the next day. He had been doing near-impossible things for the last two years fighting the gods.

  It was what the Omniscient Man had told him. At half-past five, I will bring your brother back from the dead.

  He didn’t believe him. He couldn’t. But with how much the Omniscient Man had helped him in the past, he couldn’t afford not to.

  After all, the human revolution would have never happened without him. Kevan had long lost his doubts about the Omniscient Man’s motives. If he could help humanity rise up against the gods, then whatever motives he had were no longer suspect.

  He checked his watch again. 5:31 P.M. He guessed the Omniscient Man was wrong. He wasn’t a god, he couldn’t bring people back from the dead.

  “Kevan.”

  Kevan looked up.

  There his brother stood. Wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, with not a single mark on his body.

  Kevan nearly collapsed. August’s eyes smiled at him. It was August. It was like he hadn’t aged a day. But his eyes were colder.

  “A-August?” Kevan said.

  “Kevan.”

  Kevan walked up and stopped in front of him. He couldn’t believe it. His brother was alive. He had seen him die right before his eyes, with a burning hole in his chest.

  How in the hell did the Omniscient Man pull this off?

  August stared at him. “Well?”

  Kevan gave him the biggest bear hug he could. August whined as something popped.

  Kevan backed off. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s good.”

  Kevan didn’t know what to say. How was death like? Did it hurt when millions of volts of lightning pierced your chest?

  August was at a loss for words, as well. So Kevan would do what he did best. Keep it simple and move on.

  He already had his mourning period for his brother. He was glad he was alive, but that wouldn’t change the world's situation.

  “I missed you, bro,” Kevan said.

  “I missed you, too.”

  “Did the Omniscient Man tell you about my plan?”

  “Sort of, I saw you…well, yeah, he did tell me some of it.”

  “Well, I’ll fill in the gaps for you.”

  …

  August stared at his brother as his hands moved across a map of Los Angeles. He was telling August of his plan.

  But August zoned out for most of it. His brother had changed so much. He had a scar where his left eye used to be. He had grown so much in the last two years.

  Since he last saw him. August pondered on that thought. Was that really his brother? His real brother was in the universe he had left behind.

  The Omniscient Man never told him what had happened to him. If he was dead or if he succeeded in taking down the gods.

  Would that universe’s Kevan be in the same position? Did he make the same moves? Did he rise up against the gods? Would the only difference be that August would have never walked through that door in front of him? If he really got that far, that Kevan would have never had a brother to help him through this.

  If he got that far.

  August shook his head. He had to get those thoughts out of his head. The Kevan in front of him was truly his brother. In blood and skin. Just… not really.

  The Kevan in front of him, in just two years’ time, had grown into an incredible man. He had changed for the better.

  While August hadn’t. He felt out of place, having experienced so many lives, so many things. His brother and his old life wasn’t his anymore.

  They were just the ones he replaced.

  But as long as he was here, he would help his brother out. He owed him that.

  Kevan said, “Once you kill He and the Radiant, the gods will lose their power. With the creator dead, they will spin into turmoil. We will use that to break into Mount Olympus through the gateway
to heaven at the top of the tower of Ifor and take control.”

  “Kill He.”

  “Can you do it? The Omniscient Man told me he gave you his power.”

  “Sure.” August stared at the map. There was something wrong with Kevan’s plan. August’s eyes glided across the map, through the lines and marks. They were going to infiltrate Ifor through undercover agents acting as office workers. He counted at least twenty agents. Plus hundreds of other moving parts that had to move in perfect synchronicity; if not, his plan would quickly fall apart.

  If one agent failed at their mission, if one betrayed them, it would all be over. There were too many opportunities for failure, too many openings.

  Way too many.

  “Stop.” He stopped himself. It was one of the thousands of lives he lived analyzing his brother’s plan. That wasn’t him.

  Kevan frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you don’t want to do this, then you don’t have to.”

  “No… I’m good.”

  Kevan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Enough talk about the future, let’s talk about the now. The rebels and I are having a celebration dinner later tonight. You should come.”

  “A celebration for what?”

  “A celebration for the living, for coming as far as we have, as a race.”

  “One last celebration just in case everything goes wrong tomorrow?”

  Kevan smiled. “That’s the pessimism I’m used to. Tomorrow is a giant black cloud looming over us. We have to get through it together if we want to survive. Everyone has already made their amends with their loved ones and has come in terms with their places in their lives. Just in case everything goes tits up. So let’s get drunk and remember why we’re doing what we are doing, and not about the uncertainty of tomorrow. Let’s just hope for a better future.”

  August gave a small chuckle. “I can see why the rebels followed you. Okay, I’ll go.”

  “Good. The door to your left is a bedroom. I figured you would need one.” Kevan pointed to the door to the left of the one August appeared in.

  “Thanks.”

  Kevan handed him a piece a paper with the directions of the place of celebration.

  “We’re not going now?”

  “No. I have some business to take care of at home.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Wait!”

  Kevan stopped.

  “Can…can I come with you? I’d like to see my niece, nephew and your wife.”

  Kevan let out a sigh and turned to August. “Truthfully, August. I don’t want you to see them.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t want you to get their hopes up. If everything goes wrong tomorrow, then it would be best if they didn’t know you were alive and then died again.”

  August looked down. “You’re right.”

  “But you’re not going to die again, are you?”

  August didn’t answer.

  “You’re going to live through all of this. So you can see them when this whole mess is over. The party is at seven, be there or be square.” Kevan gave one last smile before leaving.

  August was alone again.

  He didn’t know why he doubted Kevan. Maybe he didn’t believe the Omniscient Man when he said that this was basically the same universe.

  It really was his brother. The optimistic one, the one who went through hell fire with a set plan and no option of failure. The glass was always half-full with him.

  But could August really kill He? Could he kill the creator? August opened up his hand and willed his power into it. A ball of spinning colors swirled into his palm. Loose papers and trash flew around him. His entire arm twisted with millions of colors, all spinning in a chaotic but uniform manner.

  “Sword.” A light flashed in his hand. He held a sword of millions of possibilities and millions of colors. It pulsated like a siren, the squeal of it deafening his ears. He had the hand of God.

  He willed it away and the room grew silent. He wasn’t August anymore.

  He was something else entirely.

  …

  August’s room was small and only held a single full-sized bed. He sat on it. The dead couldn’t bring any material with them from the living.

  All he had was himself and this new power. He looked into his hands again. He held them out. The millions of colors swirled through both of his hands.

  He focused the power into the space between them. A single dot of light appeared in the middle. It grew bigger until it was the size of a marble.

  He continued to focus his power into it. Suddenly, as it expanded, a black hole appeared in the middle.

  August started to strain, he poured more power into it. What was his limit?

  The hole expanded until it consumed the light around him and he could see inside it. There were millions of stars.

  “Universes,” August murmured.

  The hole wavered and the whole room shook. August yelped and released it.

  He wiped his brow of sweat. When it wavered it sent an immense shock through his body. He wasn’t going to try that again.

  He lay back in the bed, his feet dangling off the edge.

  This world didn’t feel like his home. Even in the complete silence of the room, his mind ran through millions of ideas and thoughts.

  About how he didn’t belong, how bad his brother’s plan was, how he had commanded armies and nations, how he should kill his brother, how he didn’t owe him a damned thing, and how he was going to die and wished to stay dead this time.

  He couldn’t calm them. They felt like they were coming from someone else, the ideas, the voices, but they were him. Was it an after-effect from the lives he lived?

  When his brother was talking to him, they weren’t screaming at him. It was the silence, his time of reflection, when they came.

  Although, there was one word, one name, that never exited their lips.

  “Sara.” As he said that, there wasn’t a stutter in his heart, there were no sudden dark thoughts. He felt… nothing.

  Was he over what he’d done in his past life? Did he finally accept that he killed her, that he would never feel her warmth, or was it the voices blocking those thoughts out?

  He glanced at the clock, it was six in the evening. There was a leather jacket hanging on the door. Maybe he should leave early and walk around the city, so he could clear his head. It could do him wonders. At least, he hoped it would.

  …

  The wet sidewalk skirted under August’s shoes as he walked on the right side of the street. The leather jacket he wore kept him warm. The Los Angeles night came early that day. The hundreds of buildings that were still lit, as the people inside continued to work, scared away the stars in the black night.

  August always had a love-hate relationship with major cities. He loved how close everything was, how he could do anything, even though he never did a damned thing. But he hated the light pollution, the smell on garbage day, which seemed to be every day in a city this large.

  But as he looked forward, at the dirt in the grimy streets, the skyline was painted in the blues, grays, blacks and yellows of the skyscrapers. It was picture-perfect, and most importantly, it helped clear the voices in August's head.

  Even if he did kill God, he might kill himself if he couldn’t get the voices to stop.

  August continued his walk. The streets were emptier than he remembered. He didn’t know what day it was, or the month for that matter. But he did know that a city this large never slept at six o’clock in the evening.

  It was eerie; as he walked past the various shops and stores, they was closed and boarded up. There were trash and garbage in the streets. He never saw a single pedestrian. He stopped as he came up to a still-fresh blood stain on the ground.

  “Where are you from?” he asked the stain.

  He looked up at the building to his left. The words, God is Dead, was written on it in blood. That seemed like overkill to August.

  He heard shoutin
g down the street. A young man ran out from an alleyway. A bang rang out and he fell hard. He struggled up and looked at the shooter. A soldier of the God’s Hand walked up to him.

  The man begged and pleaded with the soldier. A paint can rolled away from him. A young woman came from behind the soldier and smacked him in the head with a metal pole.

  The pole broke over his head. Blood came from his scalp but he didn’t fall. He was Touched and angry. The soldier unloaded into the man and turned for the woman.

  She screamed for what August assumed was her lover. The soldier grabbed the woman by the neck and snapped it.

  He released her and she fell limp, seizing on the ground.

  August stared at her on the ground. Why didn’t he save her? He had the power to. He hadn’t felt a single empathetic emotion. Why?

  It was because death was meaningless to him now. He had died a million times. The people in front of him were lucky to only have experienced it once.

  The soldier looked around and spotted August. He turned his gun on him and fired.

  August held up his hand; it glowed its million-color glow. The bullets melted in his hand. A ball of pure energy pooled into his palm and he fired it. The soldier blew apart in a colorful fashion.

  August smiled. The explosion was loud enough to bring some attention to him. That should bring them. He had the power to do anything now. Let the gods come to him. Let him kill them with his own two hands. Let him revel in their blood.

  With this power, he didn’t need Sara anymore, nor his brother, or a lover. With this power to warm his soul, he didn’t need anyone anymore.

  “No.” August shook his head. He released the power, the warmth left his body. The voices were coming back. He stared up into the sky and took a big breath. The voices disappeared. The hate and violence he felt slowly went away.

  He walked up to the woman. She was still. It was too late. She choked to death. Her dead eyes looked at him.

  “Sorry.” If he was himself, he would have tried to save her and the man. He needed to get off the streets before he did something rash.